Redeeming Love
by bumblybean
Summary: A transfer with a mysterious past arrives at Sky High. She's looking for a fresh start- by whatever means necessary- and for redemption. She finds both things, and a little more than she expected, when she befriends Warren Peace. But how long can she last before her deception is revealed and her resolve broken? (Cover image is my own creation, link is in Chapter 5)
1. Chapter 1- Liberating

"Don't worry,"I smiled at my mom through gritted teeth, "I'll be fine."

I was not fine.

I turned my back on her so that she did not see the smile fall off my face. Each consecutive step towards the bus resounded with a hard slap of rubber soles against the sidewalk until I was on board. Eyes followed me, all faces turned towards me filled with curiosity and interest. I sat in the first row, as far away as I could get from their inquisitive stares, and did my best to ignore the gossip I could hear circulating the small space.

 _"Isn't that the new transfer?"_

 _"She's from some private school, I think."_

 _"I heard talk that she's a hero, and Coach Boomer said he's sure she's a strong one!"_

As the bus pulled away from the stop, I saw my mom wave to me from the side of the road. I waved weakly back, and faced forward, armed against the gossip with only a pair of headphones. Even with my music on full blast, snippets of conversation still made their way to my ears through the plastic devices.

After a few more stops, and a highly irregular encounter with a "Road Closed" sign, we reached the high school campus. It was the first day of classes, and students milled across the lawn to chat with friends, hand out fliers for clubs, flirt, eat, and whatever else they felt moved to do. I began to exit the bus, and absent-mindedly clapped the driver on the shoulder and offered a small "thank you."

The smile he flashed me was more sympathy than friendliness- he'd heard the gossip, too.

"Good luck, kid," was all he told me.

I needed it.

I filed off the bus, and did my best to maneuver through the din of people. I tried to ignore the reality I was facing as the new "hero" at a school I was totally unfamiliar with. I would try to take everything in stride, one thing at a time, and hopefully it wouldn't be as bad as I was anticipating.

It couldn't be any worse than what I had already been through, I figured, and that gave me a confidence of sorts.

I pushed through the crowd, and tried to ignore the gossip I could hear about my coming. My sharp eyes caught the movement of some guys throwing a football, of cheerleaders practicing routines, of people skating up and down the walk. It was all quickly becoming overwhelming. My ears tingled and turned red from embarrassment as I moved with many eyes on me, and I gripped my messenger bag tighter. I forced myself to hold my head up and to take calm, commanding steps, even when I felt like rushing into the building and away from the crowd.

Phrases uttered by students like, " _Born hero_ " still rung through my ears as I climbed the front steps and entered the building. The ones lining the hallway were no better than the ones outside, only they talked more quietly. I still could hear the majority of their conversations, although I tried not to, and made my way immediately to the office for my schedule.

I was already miserable, and class hadn't even started.

The office administration was nice enough, but even there I caught sly stares in my direction. The counselor came out to greet me, papers in hand.

"Miss Stone!" She greeted me in a chipper voice, "Welcome to Sky High!"

I endured the small talk and as many questions as I could, while people in the immediate vicinity greedily eavesdropped. I was in a hurry to get to my locker and get settled in before class started, and wanted most to be out of that stifling environment.

"Tell me," The counselor probed me with another question, "Why transfer from such a distinguished school?"

I smiled an irritated smile that I hoped said, " _None of your business,"_ and took my schedule from her.

"I didn't like the school colors," I replied dryly, and left.

A good part of the day I spent in and out of ambiguous classrooms. Some classes I were already familiar with, having taken a variation of it before or another degree of difficulty. None of the students pestered me, although I could still hear them talking, and a few brave ones approached me in the hallways with fliers for clubs. I took them with a nod of my head, and a wry "Thanks," and tucked them away into my backpack. I would throw them away as soon as I got the chance.

I was at least grateful that no teacher had introduced me to the class (or worse, made me introduce myself), but I anticipated Power Placement with a mix of dread and excitement. If I managed to pull my plan off, I would be free from gossip and speculation- and most importantly, from expectation. Power Placement couldn't come quickly enough.

Finally, my second-to-last class came around and it was show time.

Although I was a sophomore, I was put in the same Power Placement orientation session as the freshmen, the counselor had explained, "as a mere formality." Her eyes had glistened when she said that, as if she knew undoubtedly what the outcome of the test would be. For the rest of the year, I would participate in gym normally with the other students.

I entered the gymnasium, and the smell of plastic bleachers, metal rafters, dust, and sweat filled my nose and mouth. The squeak and scuffling of shoes across hardwood floors recalled to my mind many years spent playing sports in buildings similar to this, not so much competing for the win as playing for the sake of the game itself. Yes, _this_ was somewhere I could get used to.

I was snapped out of my reverie as a funny man in shorts and tube socks mounted a small stage. He seemed to me as if he took himself too seriously, and his booming voice only confirmed my suspicions.

I couldn't pay attention during his introduction, or as the other kids got up on the podium to demonstrate their skills. My gut curled in impossible ways, and anxiety mounted in my throat like a gag. I wasn't sure that I could succeed in my plan, but I'd be damned if I wasn't going to try.

Before I was even ready to take my place on the stage, Coach Boomer called my name.

"Stone!" He shouted, and I raised a hand and stepped forward. "Get up here and show these whiner-babies how it's done."

Murmurs rippled though the crowd and echoed up into the rafters.

 _"That girl is the transfer?"_

 _"I heard she can shoot bullets from her fingers!"_

 _"Our 'Save the Citizen' team is sure to win championships this year..."_

I scoffed under my breath, but didn't have much breath to spare. I felt a bit dizzy as I willed myself to take steady steps up onto the stage and towards Coach Boomer. I gripped a paper in my hand with confidence, with desperate hope, that my plan would work.

"'Stone', huh?" He joked from behind aviator sunglasses, "Is that an allusion to your powers?"

I swallowed and replied, "No, just to my heart."

Coach Boomer grinned at me and laughed.

"A hero with a sense of humor!" He guffawed at my sarcastic response, "I like it! And," He clapped my shoulder and pulled me in close, "Just between you and me, I don't know why they made you go through Power Placement. We all know you're hero material!"

Before I could say anything, he pushed me towards center stage. "So, show us your powers!"

I stood, looking out into the expectant faces. No one talked now. All were staring, intently, waiting for me to reveal my talents. I cleared my throat awkwardly, and approached Coach Boomer again.

"Coach," I said, "I really think you ought to look at my transcript."

I handed him the paper with a shaky, sweaty hand. He didn't notice, but looked at me confusedly, flipping pages.

"You see, I've already been sorted," I offered in a voice that I hoped rang with confidence, "At my previous school. This is my transcript."

The only sound was the shuffling of papers as Coach Boomer greedily searched for the answer to my mysterious claim of already having been sorted. The class waited in expectation, and I snuck a glance at them as their eyes were glued to Boomer and my transcript.

The shuffling stopped. The students waited in tense anticipation. Boomer stared blankly at the page, then up to me and the class.

He said in a small, unbelieving voice, " _Sidekick."_

By my last class, it seemed that the entire student body teemed with new gossip.

 _"Did you hear? The transfer is a sidekick!"_

 _"We can kiss that championship good-bye, now..."_

 _"I can't believe she's not a hero!"_

 _"Does anybody even know what her powers are?"_

Students and faculty alike were more open and brazen than ever before, pointing while they talked more loudly. I should have been irritated, that I and my abilities were the subject of petty gossip, but I felt pleased at the irony of the situation. People were upset and chagrined, which I felt was highly amusing.

I laughed a bit, out loud, to myself as the final bell rang and everyone rushed into the hallway to greet friends.

 _How ironic,_ I thought, as I walked with the masses through the entryway, and onto the lawn, _How ironic that I disappointed so many people before I even knew them..._

I couldn't keep myself from smiling as I approached my bus stop and waited to board. If only they knew how typical that was of me lately, maybe the others could see the irony in what I had just pulled off.

Suddenly, it hit me- I _had_ pulled it off! My plan worked- the entire school was convinced I was a sidekick. The realization hit me like a flying school bus. I wouldn't be expected to lead anymore. I wouldn't be held to a higher standard, or looked upon as favored and a "golden child." I would be totally normal and conventional (or as close to it as you can get in a superhero high school). But most importantly, I wouldn't have to live up to anybody's expectations. And as everybody knows, if no one expects anything of you, you can't let any one down- and that's the way I wanted it.

I couldn't wipe the grin from my face as I filed back onto the bus, and sat in the front again. I could hear the gossip once more, but I knew it wouldn't last longer than a couple more days. It was bearable, and easier to ignore this ride.

"So," The driver called to me as he closed the doors, and shifted gears, "How was the first day of school?"

I caught his eye in the long mirror occupying the front ceiling panel of the bus, and smiled.

"Liberating," I proclaimed, and sat back to watch the clouds roll by.


	2. Chapter 2- Big Developments

A few days had passed since the first day of school, and I was succeeding pretty well in keeping my nose clean. I tried to keep to myself, which was easy when I could still hear students whisper about me behind my back. I knew it couldn't last forever, and soon enough I would be just another kid in the sophomore class.

Several days passed with no incidences. Very few people saw fit to talk with me, and most of them were only nosy busy-bodies digging for gossip to swap in the locker rooms. I relished in giving them false information to share with their cohorts.

While some students were seemingly kind enough to chat lightly with me before class began, or tell me good morning, I kept my distance from most of them. I wanted normalcy, more than I wanted anything. But I also had a deep-seated desire to avoid getting attached, and in that way to protect myself from heart break.

During lunch, I had taken to eating at a lonely table in the corner of the cafeteria where stragglers seemed to gather in uniform silence. However, when Friday finally came, the environment in the cafeteria began to overwhelm me. The overlapping voices all struggled to speak louder than their neighbor. The smell of cheap and greasy cafeteria food coated my nostrils and mouth. Everybody was constantly moving- sitting down, standing up, hopping tables, throwing food, nudging a neighbor, playing with their hair…

I opted to skip the cafeteria and head outside. The fresh air would help me clear my head of the busy scene inside.

I descended the steps from the entry way, and onto the grass. The outdoors always calmed me. I was feeling hopeful that maybe the entire thing- my façade, and the false transcript that said I was a sidekick- would work out much better than I had originally hoped. Of course, I wasn't sure how long it could last, but I intended to enjoy as much of my newfound freedom as possible in the meantime. I wanted to be a sidekick, and not a hero, for once in my life.

I walked along the front of the school and munched on an apple. Outside, students littered the lawn. The campus was beautiful and summery, filled with lush green grass and towering trees. From where I walked, I could see the line in the distance where turf met sky. It made me uneasy- we were _floating_ on a _rock_ in the _sky._ I didn't care what kind of safety measures the school had in place, the confinement made me uneasy.But the clouds floated softly around what I assumed was some sort of force field (how else could we all breathe, I wondered?) and everything seemed almost idyllic.

Then I remembered- this was high school.

"Hey!" A small, distressed voice called out and caught my attention. My gaze was drawn to a group of students standing almost out of sight, on the other side of the retaining wall that followed the contour of the face of the school. I walked closer instinctively.

A group of upperclassmen cornered another student. I could see that papers were strewn near the scene, and books peppered the lawn where the students backpack had presumably been dumped. The upperclassmen jeered at the younger student, who I assumed to be a freshman.

"All freshies have to pay tax," One of the older boys said, standing threateningly with his hands on his hips. "Besides, what's a little homework between friends, am I right, fellas?"

The boy's posse laughed in agreement, as he stood with a pleased grin on his face. He was short for his age, maybe five foot seven in his chunky "Air Jordans". A flat-billed baseball cap balanced precariously on his head, turned backwards, only half-revealing a buzz cut hair style. A thin gold chain hung around his neck, and seemed to scream, " _I'm compensating!" …_

For feelings of inferiority, of course.

I observed all of this in a single sweeping gaze, but was drawn to look at the freshmen. He laid sprawled on the grass, evidently having been pushed down. His backpack lay feet away from him, upturned and emptied. His eyes looked up at the older boys, and I saw helplessness and anxiety in them.

I wanted normalcy, I reminded myself, and anonymity. This was not the way to those things. I looked back down at the freshman, and growled under my breath. If there were two things in life I couldn't stand, they were _injustice_ and _bullies._ Then, facing both, my heart burned with a righteous anger beyond words… but not beyond manifestation through action.

 _I guess I got to make a stand somewhere…_

I broke the circle, and the laughing stopped. I bent down to help the freshman up, who looked at me in surprise.

"What's the problem here?" I asked, as calmly as I could. The young boy got to his feet, and collected his things hurriedly into his backpack.

"They… they tried to make me give them my homework!" He exclaimed, holding his backpack to his chest now, and pointing an accusing finger at the douche-bag I had pegged from the start. The freshman gained courage as he spoke. "When I wouldn't, th-they took my stuff and pushed me down!"

I stepped forward, in front of the boy, facing the posse of upperclassmen.

"You," I commanded as best I could, talking to the leader, "What's your name?"

He seemed surprised at first, and looked around to see the small crowd that formed around us. A cocky smile covered his face.

"They call me Bigs," He said, and his friends snickered from their places behind him, "For, uh, certain _aspects_ of my personality."

His greedy eyes trailed up and down my body in a once-over that made me want to hurl. Some people in the crowd made cat-calls.

"Is that in reference to your ego, or just your big mouth?" I snapped, taking a step forward. I wanted nothing more than to unleash my anger on this idiot. The crowd made sounds around us, and Bigs' face flushed red.

"I've heard about you, you know," He offered up, and the crowd quieted down to listen, "That you're just some _sidekick."_ He spat the word out as if it tasted bad in his mouth. I didn't respond.

Bigs took another step closer to me, gaining assurance as the circle tightened around us.

"Sidekicks," He claimed, looking over my shoulder at the freshman boy behind me, "Need to learn their place." Some people in the crowd murmured their agreement.

"You're useless, spineless, replaceable little people," He uttered out the last few words lowly as he put his face dangerously close to mine, inches away, "Who couldn't even use their powers to defend themselves."

I felt a shift in my gut, as if I had swallowed a heavy weight. His words sent through my mind a whirlwind of negative memories I'd sooner forget- of times, bad times before when I had used my powers in self-defense…

I willed those thoughts out of my head, shaking my past from me like an unwanted coat. Nobody was going to ruin what I had built for myself, least of all someone like Bigs.

"The world is full of sidekicks!" He had continued in a loud voice as I was caught in my reverie, "You're not even brave enough to use your powers to- "

 _PAP!_

I couldn't hold myself back any longer. A loud, dull soundresounded through the small crowd as my fist collided with precision against Bigs' face. He staggered backwards, half-hurt and half-stunned, and looked at me as he held his face.

The crowd exclaimed, and then fell into dead silence. Bigs stared at me with wide, angry eyes.

"Some people aren't worth using your powers on," I spat at him, aloofness replaced with open contempt. The crowd exploded into a chorus of "Ouch!"s and "Burn!"s, but my mind was set totally on the individual in front of me. I watched as his face turned from surprise, to embarrassment, to anger once more. He tore himself from the grasp of his friends.

Apparently, the crowd knew something I didn't. Students quickly shuffled away with shouts of warning, and even the freshman behind me took a couple steps back. I faced Bigs resolutely.

His breathing became ragged and deep, and his face was the first to change. It contorted into ugly shapes, and suddenly, without warning, he was literally _growing._

With a yell, Bigs had grown at least two stories tall.

I had encountered size manipulators only once before, and instinctively took a step back. He opened his eyes and looked down at me slowly with a cocky grin. As if in slow motion, he began to step forward, and I heard a voice behind me.

"DON'T JUST STAND THERE! RUN!"

The freshman didn't need to tell me twice. I turned, without a second thought, and booked it as fast as I could across the lawn. Booming, sluggish steps nipped close at my heels as I hopped a retaining wall. I turned to look over my shoulder- Bigs wasn't far behind.

I sprinted as hard as I could across the sidewalk, my sneakers skidding on the concrete as I rounded a corner. I slipped onto my knees, but recovered quickly. Students ran from my path screaming at what followed me. I heard a crash as Bigs clipped the retaining wall as he chased me, and stone went tumbling down.

I knew my only advantage was speed- if I could be faster than the lumbering giant that chased me, I could trip him up, somehow. I ran from the front of the school, to a patio on the side of the campus. My legs moved as fast as they could, my lungs burned from overuse, and I dared not look behind me.

I heard the steps quicken, and before I could see a shadow come crashing down I felt a presence behind me. With no time to spare, I slid under a picnic table, and out onto the other side. With a grunt, Bigs swiped it aside and sent it careening into the lawn, just barely missing my head. Dirt and grass flew as the metal table met with the greenery, leaving deep gouges behind. I hopped another table, and dodged another blow still. I was running out of room to run as I approached another low brick retaining wall, but I had an idea I hoped would work.

I ran faster, in a straight line, willing Bigs to chase me harder. His lumbering steps crashed down behind me more quickly than ever before, and I head his now booming voice let out grunts of effort. By running in a straight line, I was making it easier for him to catch me- which was precisely what I wanted.

At the last moment, I slid just before the retaining wall, skidding on my sneakers again before tripping and rolling roughly into the brick. I curled into a protective pball, hoping my plan would work and I wouldn't be crushed.

Bigs was moving too fast for his own good- as he tried to stop, his feet caught underneath of him. His own gigantic weight combined with the effect I had intended for the retaining wall, as a clothes-line, sent him flying over top of the wall and crashing onto the grass with a thundering boom. More yells were heard from all around as Bigs dropped like dead weight onto the lawn, creating gouges in the grass behind him that looked like a meteor had hit. The dust settled, and I risked a peek over the retaining wall. Bigs was face-down in the dirt.

I let out a gasping laugh, in genuine surprise that I had succeeded. Bigs shrunk to his normal size before my eyes, face full of dirt, and students deemed it safe to come out and crowd around the action once more. I ignored the comments and questions floating around me to revel in my victory.

I didn't have long, though- the crowd that had gathered suddenly parted with noise. I looked up from my place on the ground at a professional-looking woman in a pencil skirt, Principal Powers, walking through the crowd to approach me disapprovingly.

I swallowed silently.

So much for keeping my nose clean.

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE: I know this story is labeled a WarrenxOC fic, but he hasn't been included in the story yet. Don't worry, I intend to weave him into our protagonist's life shortly…**


	3. Chapter 3- Detention

After a short episode in the principal's office (which was more than unpleasant), Bigs and I were released back to our classes. I was given a detention, and Bigs was smirking to himself as he walked freely away from Principle Powers' office.

"I'm sorry to have to do this on your first week of school here at Sky High," She had told me during our meeting, "But you threw the first punch, Miss Stone. I have no choice." I didn't bother refuting her logic, or attempt to explain why I had punched him in the first place. When the cards are stacked against you, there's no sense in touting the idea of "fairness". Bigs was a hero, my claims would undoubtedly fall upon deaf ears. I had learned the hard way, that the best way to keep the upper hand when everyone is against you is to suffer in silence.

I was finally starting to feel like a sidekick.

I walked away with the detention slip. My mouth filled with a bitter taste at the injustice of the situation, but I was soon able to reconcile myself. Principle Powers was right- I _did_ throw the first punch, but I also threw the _last one_ and that was the most important thing. I walked down the empty hall, content at the thought.

 _Besides,_ I figured to myself, finding my way to class, _I'm lucky to get off with just a detention slip. If Principle Powers had called my parents, she probably would've figured out I lied about my transcript…_

I counted myself lucky, and the entire incident an achievement. But I had to accept the consequences, and that meant a Friday evening spent in detention. I groaned aloud.

 _I guess I don't have anything better to do, anyways…_

…

Later that day, the final bell rang and students rushed from their seats to adjourn to the hallways. I waited for the rush to die down a bit before I went in search of the room listed on my detention slip.

Strangely enough, my stomach turned slightly at the thought of detention. I knew I hadn't done anything wrong in standing up for somebody- in fact, I had done something _good._ However, this would be the first time I ever received a detention in my entire school career. What did kids do in detention? Was I allowed to work on homework? Would the teacher make me write, "I will not fight at school" over and over again on the chalk board? The anticipation was more than I could handle.

I approached the room nervously, and opened the door as quietly as I could. Several faces looked up at me from a room that was surprisingly bright- I did my best to ignore them all.

I turned to the teacher at the front of the room, a small man with a large head, wearing a lab coat.

"Name?" He asked me, obviously less enthused than we were to be pulling Detention Duty on a Friday.

"Stone," I replied, and he made a notation on a piece of paper, "Sit, please."

I turned to take a seat. There were several people in detention that evening (no doubt the result of first-week-of-school shenanigans), and I looked desperately for a place to sit away from all of them. I was unnaturally nervous and feeling as if I was some type of juvenile delinquent, so I walked quickly to the back of the room and took the first seat I could find. I avoided eye contact with everyone. I could see the other students leaning in close to one another and talking, but I was so anxious I didn't even register that I wasn't able to hear their conversations- that my powers were dulled.

Several minutes passed in dead silence, and the teacher at the front of the room graded papers. I held my messenger bag on my lap protectively, observing the room in detail. The walls were made of an opaque, mysterious material that seemed to have energy pulsing through them. Some kids were working on school work, some were passing notes- the teacher with the abnormally large head seemed to care very little.

The rustling of papers ceased, and the teacher rose from his seat and walked out of the classroom without offering an excuse. The room erupted into a low mumbling of voices, none of which I could really distinguish.

 _I guess that teacher is as bored as we are…_

As the lull of low voices circulated the room, I began to get more comfortable. Detention was nothing like I had envisioned it, and was more inconvenient than anything else. My body relaxed, and I stretched my legs out to put them up on the empty seat in front of me. I felt it odd that most students elected to sit nearer the teacher at the front of the room, instead of towards the back where they might get away with more. Perhaps they knew the teacher would be leaving the detention room as quickly as possible.

Minutes passed- the teacher still did not return. I began to think he never would, at least for the majority of our session, and so I took the opportunity look at the students. I recognized one or two of them from having seen them in passing, and I shared classes with a couple of them. I knew none of them by name, however, and quelled my boredom by observing the room and my fellow inmates in detail.

The boy seated next to me drew most of my attention. He was hunched over a book that lay flat on the desk before him, his straight hair falling in his eyes. He wore a black leather bomber jacket and boots that made me feel as if he had a _serious_ chip on his shoulder. Leather fingerless gloves adorned his hands, and what telltale signs of tattoos peeked out between the cuff of his jacket and his gloves. His whole demeanor seemed unapproachable, and his resting face seemed to say, _"Don't come near me!"_

But, then again, I was _really_ bored.

"So, what are you in for?" I asked in a low voice, casually leaning toward my neighbor. The boy looked up at me, slowly, as if irritated that I had asked. He didn't respond for a moment, like he was willing me to go away. I held my ground and looked at him expectantly.

"… I tried to light someone on fire," he replied after seeing I wouldn't give up until he answered, turning his body toward me in his chair. His arm rested on the back of his seat now, and I got the feeling that he might be being sarcastic.

"Wait… for real?" I asked, turning towards him in turn. He smiled a dry, toothless smile, and nodded once.

I laughed quietly.

"Nice!" I said, putting a hand out for a low high-five. He looked at me with a surprised expression on his face, and warily tapped his fingertips with mine. I sat back in my seat with a smile on my face. This guy was _tough!_

"And you?" He asked me, the lines on his face loosening and his expression relaxing. He seemed neither highly interested or disinterested.

"Nothing quite so impressive," I grinned as I spoke, "I punched a guy."

His face broke into half an impressed smile, and he put his hand out for another high-five.

"Nice," he said, as I adjusted myself in my seat. I sat my bag down on the floor, and tucked one of my legs underneath of me. His gaze was drawn down to my knees as I moved, and he nodded in gesture to them. I didn't need to look at them to know they were scraped and bruised and scabbed, angrily peeking out from behind the jean material. It had happened when I was running from Bigs, and slipped around a corner- and also when I dove under a table, and again when I tumbled into a brick wall. My knees had burned all day long from their collision with the pavement. Clearly, I was making a spectacular first impression.

"Is this where you say, 'You should see the other guy'?" my neighbor asked me, and I blushed a bit with a smile.

"No," I joked back with half a laugh, as the smile fell from my face. "He _should_ be in here with me, though. Freakin' heroes get away with everything. No offense," I added, with a gesture of my hand. The boy looked at me in surprise again.

"How do you know if I'm a hero?" He asked, and something about the tone of his voice made me wonder if the question wasn't also for himself, as well as me.

I shrugged my shoulders. "It's in the set of your chin," I explained, eyes trailing to the jawline that I was referring to.

 _And what a fine jawline it is,_ I remarked mentally.

He looked at me in dull astonishment, with brows knit slightly. I couldn't dwell on his curious expression for long though- he turned suddenly to look at the rest of the room, involved in their own conversations.

I followed his gaze- some of the students looked over their shoulders at us, most likely enveloped in gossip. I didn't have time to ponder which of the two of us the gossip revolved around, as he turned suddenly back to me. His face bore the same intimidating expression as it had when I first saw him. I wondered what had put it there again so abruptly.

"Why are you talking to me?"

The question took me by surprise. It _was_ a question- he had spoken in sincerity, not sarcasm. He seemed genuinely confused why I would talk to him, like he knew something I didn't, as if he was some sort of leper.

"I don't know," I laughed out nervously, searching for an answer to the enigmatic question. My smile dropped slowly, and I searched his eyes nervously. "Is it okay that I am?"

He sat still for a second, and there was a flash of emotion in his eyes that I couldn't quite recognize. He smiled a toothy grin, revealing dimples in his cheeks. His dark eyes were warm, then.

"Yeah."

…

The rest of the detention period went very quickly. I learned that the reason I was not able to hear the other students' voices was the room's power-neutralizing effects- none of us were able to access our powers.

At first, I felt almost naked without my enhanced senses. At the same time, it was a blessing- I couldn't deactivate my powers at will. I constantly struggled between my concentration and my senses, and often became easily overwhelmed because of an overload of sensory information. In this room, I was just like everybody else, and I felt relaxed.

My neighbor explained that the teacher I had seen briefly was Professor Medulla, the Mad Science teacher at the school. Since I was taking sidekick courses, I would be seeing more of that teacher eventually. Apparently, the Sidekick teachers often got stuck with unpleasant duties such as detention.

"Well, if that isn't life imitating farce," I scoffed to myself.

Before I could get a chance to know much about the boy sitting next to me, Professor Medulla reentered the detention room. Everyone was abruptly dismissed, and we filed out gratefully. I walked the distance of a hallway before I had to divert my course from my neighbor's.

"Well," I breathed out in relief, "That wasn't so bad."

I looked at him in full, now. He cut a striking image in leather, and he tucked his hair absent-mindedly behind one ear. He was tall, I noted- and an athlete, to boot. That much I could tell from his physique.

"Thanks for keeping me company," I grinned nervously, subconsciously hoping I hadn't annoyed him.

"Yeah, no problem," He replied in turn with a toothless smile, and he held out a gloved hand. "It was good to meet you, uh…"

I beamed my brightest smile at him, and took his hand firmly in mine.

"Nora," I stated, noting how warm his hand felt on mine.

"Warren," He introduced himself, nodding to me in slight awkwardness. That only endeared him to me more.

"Guess I'll see you around, Warren," I called to him, walking backwards down the hall. He offered a wave and a quiet, "Yeah," and went his own way.

I made my way to my locker, picking up some books I would need for homework assignments later than night. Suddenly, I realized I would have to find a way to explain my late arrival home to my parents.

 _Not to mention my pants and knees,_ I thought, looking down at my legs. There was no way I could get in the front door without somebody noticing something.

I thought of excuses and made up lies in my mind as I walked quietly towards the school entrance. I was dreading going home, not only because I was afraid of being found out, but because I hated making up lies. They were difficult to maintain as the truth, and I almost never could keep my story straight for very long. I didn't want to be deceitful to my parents, but I could think of no other options. I had to keep them away from contact with the school at any cost, or risk being found out.

I was so involved in my thoughts that I almost didn't see a small form sitting on the steps as I descended, waiting for me.

"U-uhm, hey!" A trivial, nervous voice I seemed to recognize called for my attention, and I looked down the stairs at the freshman I helped earlier in the day. I stood surprised, assessing him quietly, waiting for him to speak. He seemed to be having trouble composing himself.

"Thanks for sticking up for me today," he spat out the words quickly, unsure of himself and of how I would react. I looked at him curiously, taking in his features. He was small, even for a freshman. The collar of his plaid shirt peeked out from under a baggy sweater, and his straw blond hair was messy. He clutched the straps of his backpack, now hung on his back, nervously. His cheeks were quickly turning red. I smiled.

"You waited for the entire detention period to tell me thanks?" I scoffed out, and the freshman nodded, shy. I smiled wider, amused at him.

"Anytime," I countered, trotting lightly down the steps past him. "Bigs deserved what he got, somebody had to put him in his place sometime."

I turned to look at him as I reached the bottom step. The sun was setting, casting a hazy orange glow on the school behind him.

"You shouldn't have to feel small so that others may feel big," I stated seriously, hoping my meaning resonated with him- I then resorted back to quipping, "Pun intended."

The small boy was taken aback a moment. Then he smiled down at me from where he had been standing, and skipped down the steps after me. We walked to the waiting bus together, chatting for a while before sitting across the aisle from one another. We talked more on the ride home, but I was pleasantly distracted from our conversation by my thoughts.

Sure, I had gotten in a fight, earned a detention, and ruined my favorite pair of jeans (and it was only the first week of school). But all things considered, the day was a victory- I stood up for a classmate, I put a bully in his place, and I guess you could even say I made two new friends.

Detention didn't turn out to be half as bad as I thought it would be.

… **P. O. V. Change** …..

Principle Powers stood at her office window, observing the exchange between the transfer and another student. Earlier that day, her gut told her there was more to the fight than just the girl decking the size-manipulator in the face- but Nora had made no move to defend herself, to attempt to explain the situation further. She had only sat there in stony, unmoving, righteous silence. Bigs had counted it as a triumph on his part, but Principle Powers could see it in the girl's eyes- he had already gotten himself into more than he bargained for.

She watched the interaction between the transfer and the other student, and didn't step away from her window until they had boarded the bus and departed. Somehow, she had a feeling that told her the transfer student, Nora Stone, was more remarkable than she was credited for.


	4. Chapter 4- Drama

My eyes opened lazily to a beam of warm yellow light trailing slowly across my bedroom ceiling, as a car drove along the road outside my window. I could hear the hazy sound of rubber on pavement and the noise was like static, telling me it had rained during the night.

I turned in my bed to face the ceiling, willing myself to go back to sleep. A few more cars passed by, their headlights bright on my wall for a brief moment. My eyes followed the shafts of light, and I subconsciously traced the paths of the vehicles by their noises. My mouth tasted stale, as it does in the morning before you brush your teeth. My enhanced senses refused to give me any rest, as they often did, and I resigned myself to consciousness.

It was about four in the morning. I brushed my teeth, and threw on a pair of pants and sneakers. I kept a hoodie conveniently hung on a hook near the kitchen door, and I ducked out the side door almost noiselessly. On the road, the early morning work wave headed off to work, their lights reflecting abstractly against still-wet pavement.

I walked into the band of trees nearby. I often woke in the morning because of my powers and walking in the woods was the best way to remedy the situation. I knew most of the woods by heart, but appreciated them the more I observed them. I walked along a deer trail, a skinny, barely discernable path hardly big enough for one person. I heard an owl dive into the leaves nearby in search of prey, and then the death-screech of a mouse. Branches rustled in the distance as what was probably a fox darted between bushes. Gaps in the canopy showed a sky that was dark and angry, filled with clouds. It had rained the night before, and the smell of damp earth drifted into my nose. All was quiet, and I padded along and blended in to my surroundings.

I walked and noted the soreness that remained in my legs from my encounter with Bigs. My knees were still bruised and scabbed, although they had started to heal. I continued on and thought of very little, instead adhering to the attention my senses demanded. It was always better to exercise them like that in the morning, instead of trying to push them to the back of my mind.

It had taken me a long time to come to terms with my powers, and even longer to understand that the best way to quell them was to give in. I looked in the mirror, having returned from my walk, and noted the chronically dark rings under my eyes. They were evidence of my senses waking me often from sleep, regardless of my body's needs.

I showered and got ready as the rest of the house began to wake up. I dried my straight, dark brunette hair and looked at myself in the mirror again. My eyes were big and tired-looking, lending me an overall fatigued appearance. The more I looked at myself, the more discontent I became- so I stopped looking.

The morning passed normally, and my parents chatted from across the kitchen to one another. I didn't feel much like joining in. I still felt guilty about lying to them about where I was on Friday, but luckily they hadn't pressed me about my late arrival home. As for my knees, I had gotten "a little too into gym class". I consciously tried not to offer information about school. No more questions were asked that morning and I headed off to school like normal.

On the bus, Steven joined me after a couple stops. After we rode together on Friday, we discovered we lived very near to each other and shared a bus in the mornings. We sat together at the front of the bus and chatted lightly. He told me about a club he was founding. I was tired, and preoccupied.

"What's wrong?" He asked me earnestly, holding his backpack on his lap. His arms were crossed comfortably across a graphic t-shirt that sported a science joke I couldn't quite understand.

"Nothing," I replied halfheartedly.

"You can run," He joked, "But you can't hide. I can feel anxiety on you. I'm an empath, didn't I tell you?"

My eyes widened in surprise and interest.

"You didn't tell me that! That's cool," I offered up, changing the subject, "What's that like?"

"In high school? Most of the emotions I read are sex-driven," Steven retorted, and I laughed. "What are your powers?"

I leaned my head back on the hard seat, and smiled (mostly to myself). I looked out the front window.

"Nothing special."

…

During class that day, the sky no longer threatened rain. Light gray clouds rolled around the school's force field, and I wondered absent-mindedly if the invisible field would keep the elements out in case of bad weather. The last thing I wanted was to be caught on a rock in the sky during something like a tornado.

I sat on a wall during lunch, enjoying the solitude and a sandwich. Suddenly, Steven plopped down next to me with a smile.

"I've been looking for you," He said chipperly, "What did you decide?"

I looked at him blankly.

"About what?" I asked, confused.

"About my club!" He exclaimed, irritated that I had forgotten our conversation on the bus this morning, "Drama club is a great way to meet new people, you know."

 _I know,_ I thought sarcastically, _which is another reason to avoid it…_

My plan from the start was to keep as low a profile as possible. If I could help it, I would avoid making too many friends and attracting too much attention. At the very least, the fewer people I grew attached to, the less people I had to let down. That was my mentality, and I was sticking to it.

"I don't know," I told Steven, who looked at me exasperatedly, "I have enough drama in my life as it is."

"That's not the same, and you know it," He chastised me, sighing. I could see he was disappointed.

"Fine. I'll tag along," I seceded finally, "I got nothing better to do, anyways."

Steven smiled a wide, dorky smile, and ate his lunch.

Later, as I walked to my final class, study hall, I mentally cursed myself for committing to Steven's club. It was not part of my agenda, but at the same time I wanted his first day directing a club to be a success. I decided that if I could help him, I would- but no way was I trying out for any plays.

I stepped into the classroom as the last person to enter, and was surprised to see Warren sitting in the corner. He was hunched over a book, again, and with the same resting expression on his face as he did in study hall- one that silently screamed, " _Leave me alone!"_ Again, the students near him had congregated in such a way as to be closer to the front than the back of the room.

I walked towards him, realizing I must not have noticed during the first week of school that we shared a study hall. It was a strange coincidence, but one I was very grateful for. I was excited- at least I had one friend in study hall.

"Hey, Warren," I greeted him as I took the empty desk next to him. I put my messenger bag on the ground, and dug out a textbook.

He looked up as he had in detention on Friday- slowly as if irritated, until he recognized me.

"Nora, I didn't know you were in this study hall," he said surprised, tucking his long hair behind one ear. I smiled excitedly.

"Yeah, I didn't know you were, either," I flipped open my book as I spoke, "Weird, right?"

As I looked back up to him, I could see him casting a glance over the room. I wondered what he was looking at, and saw that some of the students were looking over their shoulders at us again. Their conversations filled my ears whether I wanted them to or not.

" _Do you see who she's sitting with?"_

" _How do those two know each other?"_

I did my best to ignore the irritating remarks, and instead turned to Warren. He looked at me as if he was perplexed at something I did. My eyebrows drew together unintentionally.

"What is it?" I asked him, and he looked at me curiously.

"Nothing. It's just…" Warren hesitated, his eyes avoiding mine as he spoke after a moment's silence, "People don't normally sit with me, is all."

I followed his gaze around the room to the people who sat staring and gossiping. I felt that somehow, I was missing his point.

"Is it- is it okay that I'm sitting with you?" I asked, more confused than I was hurt. Why wouldn't I want to sit with him?

"Yeah!" He replied a little more excitedly than he intended, "Yeah, it's good."

I laughed, looking at him incredulously.

"Good, 'cause I need some help with some homework," I confessed, turning the pages in my book.

"Oh, truth comes out," Warren retorted, leaning across the aisle towards me.

Study hall went by quickly. Warren and I sat in equal parts comfortable silence and light conversation. Even after we said goodbye parted ways down the hall, I felt that his reaction to my sitting with him was odd.

 _Maybe I made him feel like I disliked him, or something,_ I thought, but felt the idea silly. It was a thought that didn't merit any more attention, and instead I stopped over at my locker and headed to the first meeting of the Sky High Drama Club.

At first, I thought the room number Steven told me was wrong. I exited the main building, and entered the Science building. At the very back of the campus, the science building was situated far away from the main property (probably in an attempt to keep any awry experiments at bay).

Still closer to the edge of campus, the science building connected to an auxiliary gymnasium I didn't even know existed. The double doors at the end of an empty, inconspicuous hallway opened into a gym that was not nearly as large as the other was. Old wooden bleachers stacked about 10 high lined one wall, and two basketball hoops hung from either side of the court. However, at one time this gym had also served as an auditorium; a small stage occupied the wall opposite the entrance.

It was a room well-suited for theater plays, and it was immediately obvious to me how well the voices would carry. At least thirty students roamed the auditorium, all shouting over one another. Some rehearsed scenes from plays past, others participated in improvisation games, and a couple of students were looking over the audition scripts. Each voice carried up to the ceiling, reverberating down to my ears below in an overwhelming wave of noise.

I found Steven near the stage, and congratulated him on the turn out. I was secretly surprised at how many people had turned up at the meeting, but was pleased for him.

He called everyone to attention with no little effort, and the meeting came to order. Steven thanked everyone for coming, and proceeded to direct them based on their interests.

"Those of you who wish to try out for a part in the play please see me on the stage. Those interested in tech and lighting, please register with Nora here and give her a quick summary of your abilities," Steven called to the room from his place on the stage, gesturing to where I stood near the front. I looked up in surprise as he handed me a clipboard.

"You're gonna pay for this later," I growled at him under my breath, and he smiled nervously.

The rest of the evening I spent taking names and jotting down notes about each person. Honestly, I had very little idea of that I was writing- what did _I_ know about lighting and sound effects? As a jock, I was the least qualified person in the room for the job I was doing.

 _In fact,_ I noted, _I'm the_ _ **only**_ _jock in the room…_

I looked around the room buzzing with activity, and recognized every face from at least one of my classes. Not a single person in the gym had been listed a "hero", excepting me- formerly, that is. I observed the kids going over lines together, digging through prop boxes, playing games, reliving past glories of the stage... It was a sidekicks' club, and I was a part of it now whether I liked it or not. I was running with a different crowd and the thought was foreign to me. And although the concept of drama club was something I wasn't particularly attracted to, the energy with which these students effected their passion made me excited to be a part of it, and just a little bit impressed.

I only hoped I could keep up with them.

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE: This story takes place the year after the movie Sky High is set- effectively, Warren, Will, Layla, etc. are all in 10** **th** **grade (along with my OC). Also, in case I haven't made it clear, one of Nora's powers is enhanced senses, or animal senses. Thanks for reading, and don't forget to review!**


	5. Chapter 5- Save the Citizen

"All right, you punks, listen up!"

The gymnasium quieted, and all heads turned to Coach Boomer. It was close to the end of the day, and the warm, sunny weather had made the whole school hyper and ill-attentive. It was one of those days towards the end of summer and the beginning of autumn when the temperature was a perfect seventy degrees, there was a light breeze, and the sky was crystal blue.

 _It's a perfect day to be outside,_ I thought to myself, lamenting the fact that we were having gym indoors.

"I said _**listen up!"**_ The gymnasium went silent as Coach Boomer yelled, and the soundwaves reverberated against the walls and bleachers. Everyone clung to their seats to keep from falling backwards.

"That's better," He said after a moments silence. He paced back and forth from where he spoke in the arena. The score board was blank, but was otherwise lit up and ready to use. A couple of teachers had gathered on the observation landing next to the score board, and I got the feeling they had come to watch the class.

 _We must be doing something special…_

"For those of you that didn't know, tryouts for the Save the Citizen team will be held soon," Coach Boomer went on, hands clasped behind his back and chest puffed up, "It's a source of pride and competition across all superhero high schools in the district, and its considered an honor to represent your school."

I rolled my eyes internally. The Save the Citizen Tournament was about bragging rights and trophies. The real honor was in competing for the game itself, and for the betterment of our skills to help actual citizens when the need arose.

"So, this week, we'll be honoring tryouts by having a little tournament of our own," Boomer announced, and the crowd hooted and hollered. I clapped along with the others, and let a small smile find its way onto my face- Save the Citizen was my favorite gym exercise. I was excited to see how it turned out today.

As names were drawn onto the scoreboard at random, the games began. I took enjoyment in observing my classmates' techniques, but mostly I was scouting their abilities for when I would have to go up against them. However, as I watched, I grew apprehensive.

 _Should I use my powers or not?_ I wondered, and it weighed heavily on my mind. The last time I used my superpowers at a Save the Citizen Tournament, it turned out very badly. Not to mention, I was trying to keep as low a profile as I could- if I used my powers, I would definitely draw attention to myself. Should I refuse to compete? Should I half-ass it?

"Stone, you're up!"

Boomer's voice broke me out of my reverie. I got up from my seat, and ignored the whispers and murmurs as I entered the arena. My competitiveness drove me into the ring, and I knew for sure that I couldn't just roll over- that wasn't part of my personality.

 _I guess I'll have to see what I can do without my powers…_

I was so preoccupied with my thoughts, that as I walked into my corner to don body pads, I almost didn't see who I was paired with.

"Hussle up, hothead! I don't have all day," Boomer called into our corner.

"Yeah, I'm coming," Warren called back to the coach gruffly. I looked at him with a smile.

"Looks like it's you and me," I stated, approaching him. It could've been my mind playing tricks on me, but I thought I saw a hint of a smile on his lips as he bent to pull on his shin-guards.

"I guess so," He said.

I stood next to him, pulling my hair back into a ponytail. I surveyed the arena with attentive eyes. It was different than what I was used to, but it was similar enough. The area was about the size of a hockey rink, and it looked like it had been remodeled recently. In several areas there was simulated terrain, like rocks and cliffs presumably made of plastic, and another area made to look like a typical street, with brick walls and lamp posts. My mind began to work out possible strategies, and I my lips curled into an excited smile.

In another corner, the opposite team was getting ready as well. I finished pulling my hair back, and half-jokingly offered Warren a hair band.

"Need one?" I asked him, as he sat on the ground tying his shoes. He scoffed at me lightly.

"No, thanks," he said with a smile.

"Let me guess, not part of your image?" I retorted, crouching next to him and resting my elbows on my bent knees.

"You could say that," Warren said, his long hair hiding his face as he talked. He tossed me a couple of shin guards and a chest pad. "Better get those on."

"No, thanks," I said with a small grin, "Not part of _my_ image."

 _I'll be faster without them. At least my agility is something I_ _ **can**_ _use without my powers…_

Boomer was setting the scoreboard for five minutes from his place on the observation deck. The other teachers jostled and chortled with one another, although they were too far for me to hear them.

"You any good?" Warren asked me, finally ready. He stood up and shook his clothes off. I hesitated a minute, a hundred memories flashed behind my eyelids of tournaments won and lost. Before I became a sidekick, this game was my main diversion and relaxation. Other memories presented themselves, too- of the last tournament I played, and I regretted thinking about it. I might have cringed externally on accident at the thought.

"Not really," I lied from my position on the ground, my mouth set in a bitter line. I stood, shaking the negative memories off of me, and rolled my neck out a bit. Boomer blew his whistle, calling us to the center of the arena.

"Let's go," I said, putting a hand on Warren's shoulder. He nodded.

 _I hope I don't bomb this without my powers…_

…

After our first two rounds together, it was clear Warren and I made a good team. Great, even, if I had been using my powers. I was surprised and shaken when he threw his first fireball, and realized with wonder that he was a pyrokinetic. We soon developed an unspoken strategy of divide and conquer, and although we struggled to actually _save_ the citizen balancing in precarious situations, we worked well together.

As for me, I pushed my abilities down as best I could. It always seemed like they rose to the surface in fight-or-flight situations, regardless of how much I willed them not to. Mostly, the games were friendly competition. I took pleasure in using my agility and natural athleticism to dodge, run, and otherwise evade attacks or make advances towards the citizen. Warren seemed to enjoy playing the roll of powerhouse.

The clock buzzed loudly through the gym, and the bleachers cheered. Warren and I returned to our corner for a short break before starting the last round.

I breathed heavily and leaned back against the arena wall. I fanned myself with a hand, and Warren sat down. He didn't even seem to be breaking a sweat!

"You're pretty good," I complimented him, nudging him in the shoulder. He looked up at me in earnest.

"Yeah, well," He mumbled his words with a half-smile, "You're not half bad, either."

"Thanks," I scoffed, wishing sincerely that I could let loose and really show him what I was made of. My competitive nature threatened to well up in me, and ruin the new identity I created for myself as a sidekick.

"I didn't know you were a pyrokinetic," I chatted, sliding down the wall to sit next to him. I looked at him. "Anything else I ought to know about you?"

Warren made a sardonic face, looking humorously at me.

"I like pina coladas, long walks on the beach" He started, and I laughed, "And feisty women."

I giggled, and Warren cracked a brilliant smile at me.

"Forget I asked," I teased him, looking up at the scoreboard as the next two names were drawn. My face suddenly dropped, and I stood up.

"What about you?" Warren asked me, standing up next to me as the buzzer went off, signaling us to come to the center of the arena. "Are you even using your powers out there?"

I was preoccupied with the name on the scoreboard, and regarded it with equal parts dread and excitement. "Lincoln Bigman" it read, and it didn't take a rocket scientist to figure out who the name meant. Bigs entered into the stadium with a cocky smile, and I knew in that moment I was destined to punch it off his face- _again._

I shook my head at Warren's question, not breaking eye contact with the bully we stood facing from across the arena.

"No, I'm not," I replied honestly as we walked. Both teams approached each other from across the rink and I stood facing Bigs resolutely, shoulders squared and feet apart, ready to fight. Warren could sense something was off, but had no time to ask questions. I spoke to Warren, but never broke eye contact with Bigs as we faced off as the center of the arena.

"Some people just aren't using your powers on," I stated lowly.

Any desire I'd had to use my powers immediately disappeared. I didn't need them to beat a jerk like Bigs, and I certainly wasn't going to give him the pleasure of drawing them out of me. No way was I giving him that kind of control- I was going to beat Bigs on my own turf, my own way, on my own terms, _without_ my powers.

The buzzer rang signaling the start of the five-minute match, and all hell broke loose. Without a moment's hesitation, Bigs grew the size of three stories. I anticipated as much, and ran as best I could. I dodged between his legs as he took a step forward, and headed to the opposite side of the arena.

"Nora!" Warren called to me, almost as if he was concerned. Bigs turned to chase me, his size lumbering down his movements considerably.

"I'll take the Jolly Green Giant!" I hollered back, "You get the citizen!" Warren started to argue as he took on the other opponent, throwing fireballs in their direction.

"Just do it, Warren!" I commanded, and ignored any other comments from him. I turned to face Bigs as he righted himself and challenged me. My senses became heightened, and I could hear comments from the stands.

" _Listen to her boss Peace around like that!"_

" _Does she know what she's doing?!"_

" _Bigman is gonna crush her like a bug…"_

A smile crossed my face. We'd see about all that.

I dodged and ran, and dodged some more. If I could keep Bigs away from Warren, I was sure he could get to the citizen on his own. I took cover behind a brick wall in the "street" section of the terrain, and risked a peek in Warren's direction- he was handling himself with no problem, and if I'd had time to admire his technique, I would have.

But I didn't. Bigs came running towards the wall with a yell, and I escaped just before it crashed down behind me. There was a minute and a half left on the score board, and I had to keep him occupied during that time.

"Hey, Bigs!" I yelled at him over my shoulder, "Watch out for that wall! They're easy to trip over!"

The bleachers laughed at my allusion to his face-plant over the retaining wall the other week. Bigs grunted in anger as he continued to chase me, and I evaded him.

The more I ran, the more tired I became. I knew I couldn't keep it up for much longer, and I took cover in the mountainous region of the arena.

My chest heaved as I breathed heavily, and I flattened myself against the back of a boulder. It was made from a synthetic plastic material- like the kind used on rock climbing walls, or in bathroom stalls- and it made my straight hair stick to it in static. Loud, heavy footsteps approached the cluster of rocks stacked high against the arena wall, and his heavy breathing reverberated through the gymnasium.

The fake rocks made a small mountain against the side of the showground, and I used Bigs' breathing as an anchor of avoidance. I climbed into cracks and crevices, higher then lower, side to side, to evade him. I taunted him all the way.

"So, Lincoln- Can I call you Lincoln?" I called out, and heard him grunt in anger. "I bet it's a family name, huh?"

The rocks rumbled as he tore one from its place on the synthetic mountainside, looking for me. I stayed hidden, but smiled to myself- this was just the reaction I was trying to provoke.

I looked discreetly around the corner to where Warren was fighting the other opponent- a sidekick, presumably. The other kid didn't seem to be holding out too well against Warren, and it was only a matter of time before the pyrokinetic got to the citizen.

 _Good thing, too,_ I thought with a glance at the clock, _We've got less than a minute left…_

I didn't want Bigs to look at the clock, either. If he decided to duel Warren, we could kiss the win good-bye.

"How's your face feel after that face-plant, Bigman?" I yelled to him, scooting quietly behind another boulder. "I hope I didn't mess up your features too much…"

I squeezed myself between two rocks, and hid in a small alcove.

"On second thought, it was probably an improvement on your ugly mug!" I yelled outward, and heard frustrated grunts and lumbering steps circle the mountaintop looking for me. I picked up a loose rock, and tossed it towards the other side of the terrain as a decoy. Bigs' fist came down quickly, trying to swipe what he thought was me. Rocks flew in the direction of the bleachers, hitting the clear plastic wall. Some loose pieces made it over the barrier, and students screamed.

I slipped from my hiding place and took cover behind another rock, my chest heaving as I fought for breath.

"Missed me!" I called, and Bigs' yelled in anger. He grew more irritated and loud, and I knew it was only a matter of time before he caught me. What then? I looked around the corner- _How much longer can I keep this up?_

I watched Warren throw one final firebolt at his assailant, who fell backwards. Suddenly, as if he'd heard my prayer, Warren dove just close enough to the citizen doll to save her from peril. I could hear him cough out a hoarse breath as he rolled to the ground roughly with the citizen in his hands, but the buzzer resounded with a loud _"BEEEEEEEP!"_ through the gym to proclaim our victory. The game was over. With several seconds to spare, we'd won!

The crowd cheered, and Boomer was shouting excitedly. Noises filled my ears and my fatigue overwhelmed me at once. I was so preoccupied with watching Warren defeat his opponent and save the citizen, I'd forgotten about my own.

I stood straight from my hiding place, intending to climb back down from the pseudo-mountaintop and congratulate my teammate. I waved excitedly to Warren from where I stood, and he waved back with a smile that suddenly dropped from his face.

He ran towards me, shouting something I couldn't quite make out. Before I had time to realize what was happening, I heard a fiendish yell and a dark shadow fell over me. I ducked just in time to avoid a blow, and I scrambled down the mountainside. My senses heightened in defense- the crowd screamed, Coach Boomer used his voice to try and reign in the action, and Warren ran towards me from across the arena. All this information met my mind at one time, and crowded my thoughts.

Bigs moved to swipe me from the mountainside again, although the match was over. My senses overwhelmed and betrayed me. I panicked and lost my footing, sliding dangerously down the side of the cliff. The giant's big fists followed my path, crushing anything they met.

I crashed down to the floor of the arena with speed, and slid across the hard ground before I stopped, a crumpled heap. I turned to look up at the monstrous assailant looming over me with malice in his eyes as he stepped toward me.

Suddenly, another figure stood in front of me, defensively facing Bigs. Warren's athletic form filled my vision for a moment before his arms became engulfed in flames. I couldn't see his face from where I was sprawled out on the floor, but his body language screamed he was ready for a fight.

Bigs stopped, hesitating- _What does a guy like Bigs have to be scared of?_ I wondered, but had no time to ponder anything else. Boomer and some other teachers that had been watching from the observation deck flooded into the arena to contain the situation.

" _ **That's enough!"**_ Coach Boomer yelled in his sonic voice, and the din died down. "Heroes win! Break it up!"

Bigs complied unwillingly, and shrunk down to normal size. The bleachers were still buzzing with talk as he took his normal form, and walked slowly by Warren and I. He looked down at where I still lay on the ground, crumpled but victorious, and gave me a glance of solid animosity before turning his back on us.

I had no time to snap a witty remark, or cut my eyes back at him. I only watched him leave, my head filled with static and body weak. My lungs fought for air, and I couldn't hear anybody talking to me. I did nothing but watch from my paralyzed state.

"Get up, Stone," Boomer said to me, helping me up by one arm. My feet slipped a little before I could right myself. "Are you okay?" He asked me, concerned, "Do you need to see the nurse?" I took my arm back from him.

"Thanks, Coach," I found my voice, snapping out of my shocked state. I turned to him with a shallow smile, "I'm fine now."

Boomer looked at me disbelievingly- I guess he was more perceptive than I gave him credit for- and addressed Warren and me.

"Get your gear off," Coach Boomer jerked a thumb in gesture over his shoulder, "You two are done for the day."

I nodded, and walked shakily back to our corner of the arena. Warren walked next to me with a hand grasping my upper arm firmly. My pride would normally not have allowed for that- under the circumstances, I needed it. I leaned against the wall when we got there, and he began to shake off his body pads.

"Thanks," I breathed out, the danger past. I regained my old self slowly. "Good match, huh?"

Warren just scoffed under his breath at me, and I couldn't tell if he was irritated or agreeing. I wanted desperately for him to like me. We made a good team and I couldn't stand the thought that maybe he was mad or exasperated with me.

"Say, you fight pretty good!" I complimented him, hitting him lightly on the shoulder. I puffed my chest out and buffed my arms up, goofily imitating him when he used his power, "You looked pretty bad ass."

He looked up at me, cracking a smile, although I could tell he tried not to. I grinned down at him, hands on knees, feeling accomplished that I had made him smile again.

 _I don't know why that's so important to me…_

…

Later that day, I walked into drama club late. Heads turned as I walked in, and some people got quiet. I went to the back of the auditorium to work on some backgrounds, and Steven found me on the stage.

He whistled lowly at my appearance. "What happened to you?" He asked, looking at my torn jeans and bloody knees. There were already bruises forming on my legs, hips, and elbows from where I had slid down the mountainside. My hair was mussed up and, from what I had seen of my general appearance in the bathroom mirror, I looked pretty rough. "You get in a fight with a Mack Truck or what?"

I threw my back pack down, and flopped onto the stage with a groan. My body was still in pain, and I would be sore for a couple days yet.

"I guess you could say that," I admitted, and Steven sat down next to me.

"Uh oh," He responded, "Don't tell me it was Bigs again?" I nodded, and rubbed my eyes.

"Yeah, except this time it was Save the Citizen," I explained, but remembered it with a grin, "He got his XXL panties in a bunch when Warren and I beat him during gym."

I expected Steven to be excited, even proud of me for putting Bigs in his place again, but instead a look of apprehension came over his face.

"Warren Peace?" He asked me, and I looked at him confusedly.

"Yeah, I guess so," I replied, confused about Steven's sudden hesitation at the name, "Tall guy, long hair, both figuratively and literally hot- that guy."

As I spoke, even the other students in the vicinity stopped what they were doing to talk to each other under their breath.

 _What is it about Warren that has everyone on edge?..._

"Why, what's up, Steven?" I asked him outright. My curiosity could bear it no longer. Steven wrapped his arms around his knees from where he sat next to me, looking me in the eyes.

"I guess you wouldn't know, since you're new," Steven started, "But Warren's kind of a villain, Nora."

I looked at him, surprised.

"Why? What he do?" I asked, not knowing what to expect. I'd known some high school villains in my time, but Warren didn't seem to be one of them.

Steven explained to me about Warren's father, and how he'd been put in prison. Warren had been a loner ever since, and had adopted a somewhat villainous attitude.

I let Steven tell me what he knew, but made no comment and instead deliberated over the information as I worked. Warren seemed like a nice enough kid to me, excepting the proverbial chip on his shoulder. As a PK*, I would expect as much from him.

I scoffed under my breath.

 _Just 'cause a guy wears a leather jacket and combat boots, and has a semi-volatile personality, doesn't make him a villain…_

The more I thought of Warren in this light, the more these past few weeks made sense to me. The other students avoided sitting near him because of his reputation. I understood why he was so surprised that I was talking to him casually. Even today, when Warren made a move to defend me against Bigman, I wondered why a lumbering giant like Bigs would hesitate at Warren. Now I knew why.

I cursed myself for not figuring out sooner that something was up, but knew it didn't make any difference now. Besides, I thought, in a way Warren Peace and I were the same. Both loners, trying to run away from the past… It seemed to me we were more alike than we were different.

I thought of all of this as I worked on a design for the background of the play. I sat in the wings of the stage, sketching out strategies and building plans for the sets I was helping build. I worked on blueprints of materials I would need to erect false walls, what kind of fabrics we could use to cover up the brick wall behind the stage, and anything else that fell under the category of "miscellaneous."

On the stage, other students practiced their lines, and all across the auxiliary auditorium thespians moved about making noise. Voices overlapped and drifted into my ears. After a long day, even my senses were tired, and the noises blended into one another. I was so preoccupied with my thoughts that I didn't even hear the murmurs as another student walked in through the double doors.

I caught sight of him before he could spot me, and I turned in surprise from my work to greet him.

"Hey, Warren," I flagged him down from where he stood in the throng of students milling about in theatrical garb, reciting lines, "Over here."

I called him to me, and he came over quickly, presumably uncomfortable in the middle of the bustling, loud room. It was quieter in my corner, and I greeted him with a smile.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, pleased to see him even after what Steven had told me. What did I care about the guy's father? Warren defended me against Bigs, and that showed his character more than any rumors could.

"I was looking for you," Warren remarked, sitting down across from me. He looked disbelievingly around the room. "This is… uhm, this doesn't seem like…"

"What?" I laughed, putting my pencil behind my ear, "Doesn't seem like part of my image?"

Warren laughed, nodding, and looked down at the plans I had scrawled across the floor. He was quiet for a minute.

"We made a pretty good team today," He stated, not looking up at me. His long hair fell into his face, and he tucked it behind his ear, but from where I sat I could still make out his profile. His nose was straight and defined, but didn't stand too tall from the rest of his features. He looked engrossed in thought, and his lips were idly parted.

"Do you wanna maybe… try out for Save the Citizen with me?"

It took me a second to realize what he had asked. When I figured it out, I wasn't sure how to respond.

My first instinct was to say yes- I was thrilled he had asked! But then, with hesitation, I remembered my agenda. I was trying to keep as low a profile as possible. Even joining the Drama Club had been against my better judgement, but joining a sports team? I was sure to garner attention that way, and besides- every time I competed, the chances that I would lose control of my powers increased.

I looked at Warren with apologetic eyes. The word "No" started to form on my lips, but the expression in his eyes made me stop and reconsider. Warren looked at me hopefully, and he let a hint of desperation escape into his gaze. I remembered what Steven said. His reputation was bad enough that people didn't even want to sit near him, let alone compete with him, and the irony of his situation and mine struck me. My mouth closed tightly.

 _Nobody wants anything to do with him, I know what that's like…_ I thought to myself, and without a moments hesitation, my mind was made up for me. A wide smile broke out onto my face, and I nodded.

"Sure, why not?" I laughed out, and Warren rapidly smiled back, his cheeks full of dimples.

"Great, uh," He recovered himself, doing his best to wipe the goofy smile from his face, "Tryouts are tomorrow after school, in the gym."

"Great," I replied in turn, and Warren stood up from his place to leave, "I'll see you then."

"Yeah, see you then," He offered, and I caught one last glimpse of his bright smile before he turned around and walked away. I watched him go with a grin plastered onto my face, as well.

Not long after, Steven came to stand next to me, and he warily watched Warren exit the double doors.

"Now, what's a guy like Warren Peace doing in a club like ours?" Steven mused aloud, looking down at me on the floor. Several other students' interest had been piqued, and they also looked over at us. I shrugged my shoulders, feigning innocence.

"We're gonna try out for the Save the Citizen team," I confessed, knowing I would get no rest until I answered. Steven looked at me, surprised. He seemed to be holding back a comment as he looked back at the doorway that Warren had just disappeared from. A knowing gaze crossed his face.

"I didn't know you were _that type_ ," Steven said, insinuating something with his words. I had a faint idea of what he meant, and I just smiled wryly up at him.

"I'm full of surprises."

* **PK is sometimes used to refer to a "prisoner's kid" or a "preacher's kid". Obviously, Warren is the former, not the latter… the more you know, huh?**

 **AUTHOR'S NOTE: This chapter is super long. It's the longest chapter I've written so far, clocking in at upwards of 4,500 words. I was going to split it into two parts, but what the heck, right? Hope you like it! Review and let me know how I'm doing.**

 **Edit: Also, here's the link to a drawing I did for this chapter art/Redeeming-Love-Chapter-5-Save-the-Citizen-724332626?ga_submit_new=10%3A1515345276**


	6. Chapter 6- Playing Games

It was an especially noisy Wednesday morning. The throng of students in the hallways somehow seemed denser than usual, the people more aglow with excitement and anticipation. The first game of Save the Citizen was scheduled for tomorrow night, and although it would be an away game on a Thursday, the turnout would be promising. The game was the talk of the student body (and of the faculty, for that matter) which was a refreshing change. If my powers forced me to eavesdrop on others' conversations, I at least deserved a little variety.

But just then, my powers were forcing the walls of the cramped hallways in on me. The masses of kids, coupled with the overwhelming noise of voices and bells, rapidly overcame me. I ducked into my homeroom as quickly as possible, and sat quietly.

At tryouts for Save the Citizen, a few weeks previous to that morning, it became obvious that it wouldn't be too difficult for Coach Boomer to make the cuts for the team. There were, practically speaking, very few people there to go out for the team. Although the teams representing each school were each composed of two partners, the more couples a school had competing, the better their chances when it came to elimination during playoffs. From the meager pool that Boomer had to choose from, it was safe to say he wasn't cutting many people. Warren and I had performed fluidly together during tryouts, and had attended practices together ever since. Tomorrow, our school would play a neighboring "public" superhero high school in the first game of the season that would count towards our record.

I was simultaneously excited and anxious. Save the Citizen was not only my hobby but my passion, as it was even before my transfer. My anxiety stemmed mostly from the uncertainty that accompanied each practice and game- would I lose control of my powers again, at this school, just when I had found a new start and new friends? I desperately wanted to fit in with the crowd I had found, and to leave my past mistakes behind me. I wanted to make absolutely certain that I never reflected my old self again, and I would do anything necessary to stifle that possibility…

 _But this new identity comes with deceptions,_ I lamented later that day, weaving through the hallways as the bell rang for lunch.

My parents still didn't know that I had made the Save the Citizen team, or even tried out. If I told them, it wouldn't take them long to start wondering why I was playing a sidekick's position, and then the whole charade would be over. Nights before, I had mentioned a student-run drama club in passing, telling them I was helping out a friend. _"Oh, you've made new friends already!"_ my mother had chatted excitedly, _"And joined a club. That's an improvement. You won't lose control of your powers doing a club-"_ she stopped short at a look from my father. My face had paled as the nasty memories surfaced, and my dad cast a wary glance at me from the corner of his eye and changed the subject. I had promptly excused myself from the dinner table, and endured bad dreams that night.

I snapped out of my reverie, reminding myself I no longer had to endure those fears.

 _I'll be fine this time. I won't lose control,_ I coached myself mentally and bypassed the lunch room. I walked onto the side terrace, scanning the tables for familiar faces. I asked myself just why it would be different this time? What could possibly help me fight this alternate self, this power inside me fighting towards the surface?

 _What's gonna help me find redemption?_ I wondered bleakly and sardonically, when my eyes fell upon the back of a familiar head.

"Warren!"

My spirits lifted in an instant, as they often did around Warren Peace. I quickly shuffled through the people to take my seat next to him on the low brick wall. He sat reading a book, as he did most days during lunch, and looked up to acknowledge me.

He greeted me with a smile, and we chatted for a moment, then fell into comfortable silence. We'd been spending time together during practice and school, and I'd become familiar with him. Around him, passing time with was easy- I didn't need to keep up a flow of conversation. Yet sometimes, especially when Warren was feeling talkative, we would spend hours with each other. As for me, I felt gratification from seeing a dimpled smile cross his face, or his eyes crinkle with laugh lines. His laugh was my new favorite sound, and some days it felt like making him happy was the most important thing in the world.

Today, he continued to read, and I sat next to him observing the lawn. I was comfortable with my leg flush with his, and he didn't seem to mind. Students darted all around- flirting, fighting, and participating in other such primal activities. I watched with my other eyes, my "animal" eyes I called them, tracing the pattern of movements of a group of boys tossing a football around. I was able to anticipate their next moves by using my powers. Not only had I been graced with heightened senses, like excellent hearing, vision, and agility, if I used my powers I could anticipate an opponent's next moves. _Animalistic_ , it had been called, and I sneered at the term without meaning to. I didn't give in to my powers often, but when I did it tended to be rather unpopular.

I felt eyes on me (another benefit of my powers), and realized suddenly that Warren was looking at me.

"Nora, your eyes-" he started, and I didn't let him finish.

My hands flew to my eyes, rubbing them as if something was bothering them. In my reverie I had almost gotten caught using my other eyes by the person that was impacted most by my deception. It slipped my mind that my animal powers manifested themselves in a physical way- that my eyes changed color, my pupils changed size and shape under the influence of my animal self. I had revealed my secret for a split second, and Warren had noticed.

"Yeah, I think I had something in my eyes," I mumbled weakly, removing my hands when my eyes were back to normal. I blinked them, unconvincingly trying to give the impression of dirt in my eyes. "I think I got it now."

Warren looked at me with brows knit together, perplexed. His body was leaned forward and his eyes searched mine with a fiery gaze. His look seemed to say, _"I know I saw_ _ **something**_ _, but I don't know what it was…"_

"All better now," I offered up half-heartedly, shaken at almost having been caught using my powers. Warren was not convinced.

"But, Nora, your eyes. They were-" He began again, but was interrupted as Will joined us on the wall.

"Hey, guys!" He greeted us, and Layla was not far behind, holding Will's hand sweetly. She came to sit next to me with a smile.

"Hey!" I returned a little too loudly, desperate for a diversion. I could tell Warren wasn't satisfied, but he wouldn't push it, either.

"What are you talking about?" Layla chirped, and I brushed off the question in record speed.

"Nothing much," I said, looking past Warren to Will, "You guys ready for the match tomorrow?"

We'd done nothing but talk about that game for days. Will and Layla were their own hero-sidekick team, and I had learned soon after meeting him how much Will meant to Warren, and vice versa. Layla told me a bit of their history together, but not much. She promised to give me the full story later, a segue she had provided as an opportunity for us to get together socially. I wasn't sure how I felt about her yet, but I supposed there wasn't any harm in us hanging out.

The remainder of the lunch period was passed in excited conversation about the upcoming match. Warren and I walked together afterwards, stopping at my locker. He leaned coolly against the wall, the archetype of a bad boy. I couldn't help but let the thought cross my mind, _He's gorgeous._ I became almost nervous as he watched me quietly, and fumbled with the lock.

"Hey, don't look at my combination," I teased him, desperately wanting him to forget about what happened at lunch. His face didn't show much of what he was thinking, and that worried me.

"I already know it," He countered confidently, looking pleased with himself. I rolled my eyes in exasperation.

"Should've known," I mumbled, swapping out books and binders from my backpack and giving Warren a few things to hold for the moment. Warren held the books I handed to him, unoffended at the errand of holding my things for me, and investigated my locker.

"You don't have any decorations," He stated, surprised at the bare backside of the locker door. I looked at him blankly.

"Nope."

"Why not?" Warren asked, inquisition heavy in his voice. I continued to gather my books for the second half of the day, and shrugged my shoulders.

"I don't know," I said dryly, looking up at him, "What _should_ I have in here?"

"Pictures," he said, "Memories, from your old school."

My jaw clenched, and my face turned stony in an instant. I looked downward, away from Warren's knowing gaze, but it was too late. He saw, and recognized the distress that had passed over me.

"You know, magazine cutouts of shirtless celebrities, like the other sophomore girls in this hallway," He joked, backtracking quickly. I couldn't help but laugh, and grinned at him. He stood over me, smiling down toothlessly, face framed by straight dark hair. I reached up idly, and tucked a strand behind his ear without thinking. His smile dropped slowly.

"I'm not like other sophomores in this hallway," I told him lowly and passively, accidentally letting too much edge into my voice. I took a moment to appreciate the look on his face before turning to close my locker. I gathered my books from his strong arms just as the second bell rang. Students pushed past one another to get to their next class- mine happened to be _Sidekick Fundamentals II._ Lucky me.

"Do me a favor," I flirted with Warren as I started to walk away. I turned backwards to smile at him one last time. "Try to forget my combo."

Warren laughed a short laugh as he turned toward the direction of his next class. "Yeah, yeah…" he muttered, but as he turned I could see his face break into a full smile.

 _That's what I want to see,_ I thought.

….

Late the next night, the bus was rumbling home from the first Save the Citizen match. Overall, it had been successful- some couples won, some had lost. The average amount of wins per game played would count towards our record at the end of the season, and at this point it was looking good.

Warren and I had played our match well and were headed home with a win, though we didn't look much like winners. We had played hard, and now we were wiped. I sat curled up in the bus seat, tired and cold. Autumn was setting in and the nights were getting colder, especially up in the atmosphere where we were currently flying. Inconveniently enough, the heating in the bus was antiquated and highly temperamental- and tonight it was not cooperating.

I curled into Warren's side with a tired sigh. He sat relaxed, with his head resting back on the seat with eyes closed. He didn't move as I shuffled closer, away from the cold metal framing of the bus and the frosty window.

"You cold?" Warren asked tiredly, without opening an eye.

"Mmm," I mumbled.

"C'mere," he spoke quietly, letting me lay my curled form in his lap. I was exhausted and didn't quite care if I was crossing a line or not. I knew I was cold, that it was a long way home, and that I had a pyrokinetic sitting unutilized in the seat next to me. The rest of the bus was asleep or dozing, except for the driver, who stared ahead into the night sky calmly.

I wrapped my arms around myself, and as Warren rested his arms comfortably around me I shivered- _from the cold, or something else?_ I wondered, but was too tired to dwell on it. Soon after, I felt a soft heat radiate from him surround me.

"Why didn't you do that sooner?" I asked, voice muffled by his leather jacket. I felt him shrug.

"I didn't know you were cold," He responded, "I don't get cold. It's a pyro thing."

"Lucky bastard," I joked, half asleep and half whispering. Warren's gut shook gently in a half-laugh. We were quiet, and I was falling quickly asleep with my newfound heat source close by me. Warren's voice found me just before I dozed off.

"We did good tonight," He stated, pleased with the match. I nodded just barely.

"We make a good team."

"Yeah."

And I fell asleep.

…..

 **Just something light and fluffy to get me back into the groove of things. And, about that… sorry for dropping off the face of the planet for a couple months? While I wasn't posting, I couldn't help but mentally keep the story arc going, and I knew it would continue to bother me until I finished it. So we'll see how this goes. Plus, your reviews really helped to motivate me- so thanks. 3**


	7. Chapter 7- Secrets, Secrets

I sat with Layla at a neat and polished kitchen table. The midday sunlight streamed peacefully through the window, filtered through leaves of house plants and indoor herbs. It was Saturday, and we perched comfortably in Layla's kitchen doing homework. The white walls and quiet environment were peaceful, and I was grateful for the lack of noise to distract me from my work.

Although I didn't know Layla that well, she was easy to get along with. It was an added benefit that we had many of the same sidekick classes together, and had become study buddies.

We were just debating the answer to a question from, _"Ethics: A Sidekick's Field Guide to Morality"_ when her mother returned from grocery shopping.

"How's it going girls?" She inquired kindly, setting heavy paper grocery bags on the counter with a thud. Both Layla and I got up to help her.

"Faster than it would go alone," Layla said with a smile, and we filed outside to unload the family car.

"You can say that again," I agreed, hauling one case of water over my shoulder, and gently angling another case onto the other shoulder with a grunt, as I had done many times before at my own home, "Someone grab the door for me?"

Both Layla and her mom looked at me in surprise, and it took me a moment to realize I'd demonstrated my underlying powers. While my eyes didn't change when I flaunted my heightened strength, it was painfully obvious that I was stronger than average.

I set the waters on the counter with a thud, and Layla and her mom followed me inside with the rest of the groceries. Her mom laughed.

"Wow, Nora," She joked good-naturedly, "We should have you over _every_ time we unload groceries."

I blushed nervously. "Just trying to help," I offered anxiously. We set about unpacking the paper bags.

"You should see how good she is at Save the Citizen!" Layla said casually, trying to brag on me. My heart sunk into my stomach as panic hit me like a ton of bricks.

"Oh, you're on the team, too?" Her mom inquired over her shoulder, turning away from us to store some vegetables in the fridge. I turned to Layla quickly.

"Nora is-" Layla started.

"She means in gym!" I panicked, turning to Layla with a desperate look. "She means when we play in gym."

The red-head looked at me with a blank expression that turned into genuine confusion. I shook my head silently while her mom's back was turned, asking her not to divulge more. She said nothing else, but I could see the apprehension on her face.

I took the nearest opportunity to pull her into another room.

"You can't tell them I'm on the team," I begged the botanokinetic. Layla looked at me, not understanding.

"Why not? Nora, you're so talented-"

"No one can know," I started shakily, taking a breath. I should tell her everything. "My parents don't even know I'm playing on the team."

Layla nodded once, trying to understand me. She must have wondered why my parents hadn't been to any of the home games yet, and by now it must be clicking into place.

"Please, Layla." I begged her again but could tell she was unconvinced.

 _I should just tell her everything,_ I thought. _Layla would understand. I should tell her._

"I'm not…" I started, words forming on my lips. _"I'm not a sidekick,"_ I tried to tell her.

"I'm not supposed to be playing. My parents don't know. And if you tell your parents, mine are sure to find out." I found myself too frightened to confide the truth in a friend. When had I gotten so desperate for this lifestyle, that I started telling lies upon lies to maintain the façade?

Layla nodded, not understanding. There were questions running through her mind, I could tell that much.

"Promise me you won't tell anyone else," I said in a hushed voice, looking back into the kitchen. Layla hesitated.

"Fine," She resigned, "But Nora, why aren't you supposed to play?"

My mouth closed in a tight line. By now the problem was too complex to present her even the abridged version, if I had wanted to. Which I didn't.

"I'm just not," I said finally. It was the best answer I could muster- and I acknowledged, it was a crappy one.

I walked home later that day wondering if I could trust Layla with my secret. She'd been polite enough the rest of the afternoon and had refrained from mentioning it again. I appreciated that. But as I was heading out the door, after having thanked her parents, Layla turned to me once we were alone. Her face was passive, but her eyes held many emotions.

"Nora, I don't know what's going on, but…" She stopped short, giving me a pitying smile. "Whatever it is, just be smart. Secrets are hardly ever worth keeping."

That threw me. I walked home under the light of a fading evening sun. Long shadows crept along the walk, the color of soft charcoal. It was getting cooler now, as was characteristic of autumn evenings, but the leaves were still vibrant shades of green, the foliage still dense. Birds still sang from the treetops and the occasional butterfly made its way across the lawns of neighboring homes. A typical suburban neighborhood, it seemed, though some of us were anything but typical.

I walked home in silence. Layla's house wasn't far from mine, and I needed time to think.

… **POV Change** …

Later that day, Will and Layla sat on the small patch of roof outside his bedroom window. They had often sat there as friends, in the previous years of their relationship. Now they sat together as a couple, Will's arm draped casually around the plant-bender's shoulders. They spoke in quiet voices under the darkening sky. It was almost nightfall.

"…And all of a sudden, she just clammed up. She asked me not to say anything else about it to anyone, not even my parents," Layla was finishing the recap of her afternoon, looking into Will's attentive gaze. "I told her I wouldn't say anything, but- I mean, why wouldn't she want anyone to know she's on the Save the Citizen team?"

Will's soft features came together to form a troubled look. His mind rapidly flipped through possibilities, but focused on the most troubling of them.

"I'm not sure," He started, dreading what he thought might be true, "Maybe… I mean, maybe it's about Warren."

Layla looked up at him blankly. Will grunted in discontent.

"I think that maybe Nora's problem, is that she doesn't want people to know that she's on the team with a vil-" Will stopped short. He hated the v-word, especially when it was used in reference to his best friend. But that was the only plausible reason he could find for Nora's reaction. Why else would she care if her parents knew she was on the Save the Citizen team?

"You honestly think Nora cares about Will's past?" Layla asked in disbelief. It seemed unlikely- _more_ than unlikely. _It goes against the grain of her personality,_ Layla thought.

"I just think we don't know her that well," Will responded neutrally, pulling Layla in to himself and resting his chin on her head. He breathed in deeply, wishing he knew what to do with the newfound information. He thought for a quiet minute.

"I'm gonna tell Warren."

Layla shot up so fast, she almost took a piece of Will's chin with her.

"You can't!" She protested, "I told Nora I wouldn't tell anyone else, and I've already told you. We can't tell Warren, too. Please, Will, just forget I said anything."

Will bit his lip. It wasn't his secret to share, he reasoned. But his conscience had already clung to the scrap of information, and he knew he wasn't due to forget about it anytime soon.

"All right," He said, earning him a peck on the lips from his girlfriend. She smiled at him, just as Mrs. Stronghold's voice called from a below window.

"Dinner's ready, kids!"

The two teens scrambled in the window. Will forgot about their problem momentarily when the aroma of dinner on the stove reached his senses. Layla followed him in suit but felt a nagging suspicion that the secret they agreed to keep from Warren would come back full-circle. She thought back to what she'd told Nora a few hours earlier.

" _Secrets are hardly ever worth keeping…"_

… **POV Change (Back to Nora)** …

The new school week started again. Layla acted as normal, having apparently kept our conversation to herself. I admired that about her, and felt an unspoken bond form between us. We'd be friends. I knew that now.

Life went on as expected. The drama club picked up speed with enthusiasm, and the first-ever play hosted by the Sky-High Drama Club was scheduled a few months in the future. Our resources were scant, to say the least, as I soon found out in my role as Props Manager, Costume Designer, Set Builder, and general den mother.

"What do you mean, there's only this much money in the club's budget?!" I asked Steven, carried away in disbelief at the just-barely-three-digit number I saw on the paper in my hand.

"It was all the school had left budgeted for clubs!" Steven defended himself, exasperated. "We got a late start, and all the other clubs had been doled their money, so we got what was left…"

I scoffed, crumpling the paper and throwing it across the stage. I rubbed my eyes tiredly.

"Chump change," I grumbled, starting to fully understand the plight of the sidekick. The treasury had _conveniently_ run out of money as soon as a new sidekick club was founded, and I was sure that an ungodly amount of money was put towards sports and the gymnasium.

 _Damn heroes…_ I found myself thinking.

"How are we gonna build sets?" I asked Steven, pointing to my plans, then gesturing to the students reciting their lines on the stage. Many of them had stopped to listen, and were congregating around our conversation. "What are we gonna do about costumes? And props?"

"I guess we'll all have to pitch in," Steven offered up weakly, looking around for support from the club members, who nodded enthusiastically.

"Don't worry, Nora," A curly-haired freshman offered, "We'll do a bake sale."

"Yeah!"

"Or a car wash!"

Agreement erupted from around the room.

"Do you think we could use salvaged supplies for the sets?" A shy tech person spoke up from behind straight, dark bangs. "My dad works in construction. I think he can get us some old two-by-fours."

"And my mom's a seamstress!" Another boy spoke up, "She probably has old fabric we can use for costumes."

"That would work," Steven encouraged them, pleased with the developments. "See? Everything'll work out just fine."

I spent the rest of the practice getting information from students- who could get what materials, who could get them to the school, who needed help, and who would continue searching. Things were looking up- until I realized exactly _how much space_ I would need to store all the necessary materials while I was building the sets, and even then when they were done. I groaned aloud and went trudging out of the auxiliary gym.

"Where are you going?" Steven called from the stage as I went, as though he was worried I finally snapped and gave up the club. I waved at him without turning around.

"For a walk!" I hollered across the gym, and soon stepped outside of the old science building. Its brick walls were antiquated and long since faded. The sun had just barely set, and I walked across the lawn at the very back of the campus. It was peaceful without the students clamoring across the yard. Everything was better when people weren't involved.

But I walked with a purpose. One day, while exploring the area around the auxiliary gym, I spotted what looked like a small shed around the other side of the building. I had pushed it out of my mind until now. There must be several unused buildings on a campus this big, I mused, and was almost surprised that more people didn't know about them. Still, the majority of the campus near the old science building went largely unused.

 _Maybe we can use that shed I saw for storage…_

I rounded the corner and was met with a surprise- there was a shed there, all right, but it had a moderately-sized greenhouse attached to it. The glass portion of the shed sat neatly behind the wall of the nearby auxiliary gym, hidden from view unless you crept around the corner.

The glass walls were old and dirty, weeds having taken over inside. But the panes were intact, and the structure seemed viable. I wrenched open the rusted shed door, delighted to find few spiders and snakes, and especially delighted to find it empty. I went around to the greenhouse windows and peered in to the bare tables and empty terra cotta pots. I grinned. Layla was going to love the new project I'd found for her.

Late that night, I sat comfortably in the seat next to Steven. We were on the bus headed home. The rest of the club was crowded around us, telling stories and playing games. I was surprised at how much energy they had left after a late night of practice.

Though the improv games were tempting, my mind was someplace else. I was troubled and mulling over the events of the past few days. Part of me argued that I should've just told Layla the truth about why I couldn't let word get out about playing Save the Citizen. She would've understood. She would've kept my secret.

On the other hand, how _could_ I tell her the whole, complex story? Of my transfer, my transcript… and especially what came before.

I sighed and leaned my head back on the seat. Though the din around me was noisy, my troubled thoughts took up my attention. How do you casually tell a friend that the last time you played a sport, you lost control of your powers and almost brought the arena down with you? If my parents found out I was playing again…

I shuddered. That match, I had been manipulated into giving up control to my animal powers, and the frenzy of my anger had made me unrecognizable. My heightened sensed, my strength, became uncontrollable in an instant. My eyes had morphed (I was later told), and my entire being seemed… wild.

So, I had done the only reasonable thing- changed schools, changed my status, and most importantly changed myself. If my parents knew I was playing Save the Citizen, they'd soon find out I had falsified my transcript.

I didn't want that old, terrible match made public. I wanted a fresh start- I _deserved_ a fresh start, after having been ostracized and shunned by my old friends and teachers. This time would be different.

And I would make sure of that, no matter what I had to do.

I curled myself away from the crowded bus aisle, away from the others and towards the window. I looked out into the dark, cloudy night, and tried to reconcile myself to the lies I'd been telling.


	8. Chapter 8- Committed

… **..(3** **rd** **Person POV)….**

The following week at school was seemingly normal for everyone, but Will struggled with his conscience. Although he'd promised Layla to keep Nora's secret between them, he found himself battling with the desire to tell Warren anyways.

Nora was Warren's Save the Citizen partner, anyways, so he had a right to know if Nora was keeping their affiliation a secret. On the other hand, Will argued himself internally, Warren technically had no claim over Nora, and her business was her own. But Will felt responsible for his best friend. And he had a nagging feeling that this secret would come back around full-circle, in a way that would only hurt more than help.

He fought himself internally for the rest of the week.

… **.. (POV Change – Back to Nora)….**

Save the Citizen practice was physically taxing that Thursday evening. After a week of normalcy (or as normal as it could get at a Superhero High School), I was grateful to be back in the groove of things. We ran drills, conditioned, ran some more drills. It was refreshing to let my mind quiet for a while, and let my body go through the motions I was so familiar to. Warren and I paired for every drill, as did the other hero-sidekick duos.

Boomer switched us around occasionally, combining different sets of abilities to keep the team in practice, but never for too long. Warren and I always came back together to create cohesive, fluid teamwork.

I leaned heavily against the gymnasium wall during break. We'd just finished sprints and would play a short scrimmage soon to wrap practice up. I gulped down water from my bottle, looking around the gym at the rest of the team. Warren sat nearby, by himself, as usual. Sometimes we joked around on breaks, sometimes we didn't. I was too exhausted today to talk and opted just to stand quietly by myself.

The gymnasium where the Save the Citizen games were held wasn't that large, but an adjoining track and field outside made up for it. Coach Boomer had propped open the exit doors facing the outdoor track, and cool air blew it through them. It was just getting dark.

The voices in the gym were more difficult to ignore than in other rooms, mostly because the gym reverberated every sound. Tonight, I could hear some of the other kids talking among themselves in perfect clarity.

They were joking around, and typical conversation wafted through the air to my ears. Who was failing chem, who was taking who to homecoming, who was going out to eat after practice.

My ears pricked up at that bit of conversation. They say that those who eavesdrop never hear good about themselves, and I could attest that more often than not it was true. This was one of those times.

They were making plans for after practice.

" _What about them?" One girl asked, gesturing with her eyes over to Warren and I._

" _What about them?" Another boy spoke, turning his head over his shoulder to look. "I don't wanna invite Peace, he's a villain."_

" _Keep your voice down!" another protested, "He's looking."_

And so he was. I glanced over at Warren, who was glowering at the group of kids plotting to exclude him. I was sure he hadn't heard as much as I had, but he'd understood what little his human ears heard, and he understood their body language. I realized in an agonizing mix of sympathy and understanding, that he must have lived through experiences like this many times before.

An anger beyond words filled me suddenly, but I knew it was a secondary result of what I was really feeling- bitter, and distressed for Warren. The scene I'd just witnessed hit a little too close to home.

After practice, I waited outside the locker room for him. Will and Layla were the first ones to bail practice, having already set up a date night. Warren was the last one out, his long hair pulled back into a low bun, and he'd put a fresh t-shirt on. He looked surprised to see me.

"Hi," I said lamely.

"Hey," he responded, equally as lame. We were quiet for a second.

"I'm starving," I stated, trying (and failing) to act natural. "Let's go grab something to eat."

I linked an arm through his, and we started walking towards the front of the school where the bus was.

"A-are you sure?" Warren asked. He sounded apprehensive.

"Yeah, I'm pretty sure I'm hungry," I teased him, avoiding his prompt and trying to sound casual. He saw right through me.

"Nora, stop." And I did. He looked at me with a carefully guarded face. "You don't have to feel sorry for me. I'm fine on my own."

I looked at him and felt a million things pass through me that I wanted to tell him.

 _You're not fine._

 _I don't feel sorry for you, I feel_ _ **just like**_ _you._

 _You don't have to be on your own._

"I don't care what they think about me," Warren began again, before I had a chance to make an idiot out of myself. He gestured to the other kids walking down the distant hallway. "I know they call me a villain, and I know it's not true…" He faltered there. "But I don't- I don't want them to think the same thing about you. And I wouldn't blame you if you cared what they think-"

I stopped him with a gesture of my hand. I took a breath to stabilize my emotions- if he kept talking, it'd be sure to break my heart.

I decided it was a good time to overstep boundaries. I dug into his gym bag suddenly, clumsily pulling at the zipper, trying to find it, trying to find it…

"Nora, what are you-"

I pulled his playing jersey out of his bag. I held it, crumpled, in my fist so he could see.

"This," I said, and dug into my own bag next. I held up my playing jersey, too.

"You see these?" I asked, "Same number, same team." It was true- his sported a 29H, and mine a 29S. Hero and Sidekick. "You and me, we're partners now. That means that we're _for_ each other, not _against_ each other. You get it?" Warren looked at me with brows knitted together, and his mouth pressed into a straight line. I saw his jaw ripple lightly when he clenched it.

"It means I don't care if you're 'fine on your own.' You don't _have to be_ on your own," I stated. It was the best I could come up with. It wasn't everything I wanted to tell him, didn't even come close, but it was the best I could do. "It means I'm committed."

I drew my gaze away from his. Suddenly, I was embarrassed, like I'd just shared too much information about myself. I hoped desperately that he didn't think I was stupid or overthinking things. I clumsily shoved his jersey back into his bag, felt my face flush, and linked arms with him again before he could say anything else.

"Let's go get something to eat." I said, dragging him through the halls. And we did.

…

We were sitting in a corner booth. The restaurant was quiet, even for a Thursday night. It was decorated in dark, bold reds and the typical accents- lanterns, gold trims, and Asiatic wall art. It was a Chinese food restaurant, no doubt about it.

Warren and I sat on the same side of the table, our backs to the wall, observing the patrons and workers. He was giving me the full scoop on his coworkers and regular customers.

"And that's Kim," he noted, pointing to a small Asian lady clad in a button up and black slacks. She was seated at an empty table poring over the accounts. "The owner's wife. She's scary when she's angry. We call her the Dragonlady when she's not around."

I let out a short laugh, while simultaneously stuffing my face with noodles. I was the picture of grace- dirty and gross from practice, hair pulled back into a sloppy ponytail, and starving out of my mind. _Classy_.

But it was easy to be myself around Warren. We played sports together and were used to seeing each other sweaty and disgusting (although I was fairly sure I looked plain disgruntled while we played Save the Citizen, while he looked to barely break a sweat). I didn't mind eating my fill. I didn't mind having to excuse myself to go to the bathroom. Warren made me feel at ease, and I valued him dearly for that.

I hoped the feeling was mutual. He looked across the restaurant, brown eyes playing over the familiar setting. His body was relaxed, shoulders sloping gradually down to muscled arms. His skin, naturally a dark tone, was even more shadowy golden in the dim light. He was wearing a short-sleeve t-shirt and for once was without the iconic fingerless gloves. I greedily took in his tattoos, wondering where they came from and I thought about asking. I noted how the dim light cast shadows on his face, and the sharp contrast outlined his angular jawline in perfect clarity. Thank God for the Paper Lantern.

"Try the crab Rangoon," He said, using his chopsticks to push one of the deep-fried puffs off his plate onto mine, "They're really good."

I stabbed it readily with my fork, nodding my head in approval as I ate it.

"So good," I agreed, and snatched another from his plate. He half smiled at me from the corner of his eye.

"No chopsticks for you?" He asked, manipulating some rice onto the two pieces of wood with skill. I could tell he was showing off.

"I'm a traditionalist," I shrugged between bites. Warren laughed.

"Nora, there's _nothing_ traditional about you," He joked, and I rolled my eyes. _If he only knew,_ I thought.

"I like to use a fork because it gets the food to my mouth the fastest," I conceded, and opted to change the subject from my unfavorable eating habits. "What's with the ink?"

I gestured to the flames licking up his defined arms. He glanced down at them silently, and for a moment his body stiffened.

"It's a birthmark," Warren spoke finally, but his voice was displeased and tired, like he'd pondered them too often. To him, they were less like tattoos and more like scars.

"For real?" I asked, and he nodded. I admired them for another moment, reaching to lay a cautious hand on the markings. My thumb gently glided over the flames, and my brows drew together unintentionally. I wondered with concern what had happened to Warren Peace to permit him such scars. Somehow, it felt unfair.

I felt the temperature of his skin grow hot without warning, and my hand retreated into my lap almost immediately. He wasn't angry at me by any means, but I could tell I'd overstepped another type of boundary.

"Th-those are pretty badass, though," I joked, embarrassed. Why did I always push the limits with him? "I've got a birthmark, too, but it's not quite so attractive, if you catch my drift."

When I risked a glance, he was looking at me blankly. Then he threw his head back to laugh, exposing the muscles of his throat and revealing the deep notch at the base of his neck. They moved as he laughed aloud. It was the first time I noticed what thick eyelashes he had, and I delighted in the laugh lines that formed in the corners of his eyes. The patrons and workers of the restaurant turned to look. I stared at Warren.

We didn't leave the Paper Lantern until closing. It was late for a school night, but I'd finished my homework at least. Warren and I continued to chat a little under a streetlight.

"Which way do you live?" He asked, and I gestured with my thumb behind me.

"Thataway," I said, "Pretty close to Layla's. Which way are you going?"

He nodded the opposite direction.

"I'm not too far from here," He told me, in a satisfied voice that I hoped was saying, _We live close to one another. That means we can hang out again…_

"Oh," I faltered. I was hoping we'd be going the same direction, and I didn't want to leave him just yet. "I guess I'll see you at school tomorrow."

It came out like a question. That was dumb.

"Yeah, I guess so," Warren nodded, and a few stray hairs fell out of his bun. He tucked them behind his ear. We stood for a second longer.

"Goodnight, then," I attempted to close with grace, smiling at him as I retreated down the sidewalk.

"Goodnight," He said. I saw him wave as I turned. I took several steps in the direction of home.

"Hey, Nora?"

I went to face Warren again and was suddenly pulled into a warm body. I reached out to him instinctively, wrapping my arms around his fit torso and holding him much tighter than I meant to. His arms wound around my neck and shoulders, and held my head into his chest.

"Thanks for being with me," Warren said. I knew what he meant. I nodded, digging my face into his shirt to breathe him in. His body was still a bit stinky from practice, but mine was too- he smelled good to me.

"Don't mention it," I mumbled, the noise muffled in his chest. We stood still.

I squeezed my arms tight around him briefly and let go. He loosed himself from me, and let his hands trail along my shoulders and down my arms. I smiled up at him, and he seemed almost to be blushing. I couldn't quite tell, because the light from the streetlamp behind him enveloped his features in darkness and created a halo around him. I stepped away from him.

"See you tomorrow," I called out, walking away without looking back. I didn't want him to see the goofy grin I had plastered to my face.

…..

The mood was electric at school the next day. Gym was our second-to-last class of the day, and what a day it was- clear blue skies, crisp air, and a breeze whispered to us that Fall was on its way.

The students on the bleachers buzzed with excitement. It was Friday, the weather was gorgeous, and everyone was typically hyper in gym class, anyways. With all that combined, Boomer was having a hard time reining everyone in even with his voice. He opted to introduce a new game, instead, to satiate the beast ( _us)_.

The new game was simple- heroes vs. villains. Two teams would fight in the arena within a given time set, and whichever team was left standing won. As teams were assigned their roles at random and we began to play, it became evident that the game wasn't as clear-cut as it seemed.

 _A little like real life,_ I mused.

"Hey, Coach!" I called to the little man wearing shorts, "What's with the new games? What's wrong with good ol' STC?"

Boomer looked away from the game he wasn't reffing. He was paying more attention to the bag of chips in his lap than to the teenagers fighting in the arena.

"Principal Powers says we need more _'diversity'_ ," Boomer mumbled through a mouthful of barbeque chips, raising his stained fingers to use air quotes, "It's supposed to be less about the citizen and more about _'realistic combat situations.'_ Apparently, we need more _'team-building'_ activities." There were the air quotes again. Boomer mumbled something under his breath about the combat in his days, and I turned a blind ear.

"I think it's a horrible idea," Layla spoke up from behind me. I turned to look at her and Will. "It just gives people an excuse to go after one another."

"Don't knock it 'til you try it," Will told her, pointing to the scoreboard. Their names were up next. Layla followed him down the bleachers with a groan. I smiled after them.

"I think she's right," Steven's timid voice rang out from in front of me. He leaned his head backwards to look at me. "I can think of a couple people in here who'd love to get their hands on me."

I interpreted his meaning, and I glanced at Bigs from the corner of my eye. He was sitting all the way at the top of the bleachers, against the wall, snickering with some friends. I could smell the hostility rolling off him, and knew he just couldn't wait for his turn to play.

"It doesn't seem very well thought out," Warren agreed from his seat at my right. He looked up from his book to voice his opinion, holding his place with a finger. We were sitting very close to one another, and the soft heat from his body warmed my chilly limbs. The weather was starting to get to me.

"I like the no-holds-barred approach," I protested, watching Will and Layla play their round. They worked wonderfully together. "It's the only way I've ever done it."

"Well, not all of us are as into _Fight Club_ as you are, Nora!" Steven complained, turning back around.

"Hey, the first rule of fight club is you do not talk about fight club," I quoted to him, and Warren laughed from next to me. I let a smile slide onto my face. I loved it when he laughed.

"Steven's right, Nora," Warren said after a minute, looking at me pensively, "You're too confrontational." I didn't have a good answer. He was probably right.

Warren and I were up soon. The names on the board were familiar- too familiar. We were facing Bigs again.

I wondered how it always seemed to happen that way. Was Boomer doing it on purpose? Was he trying to pit us against one another? Granted, whenever Bigs and I fought it was bound to be a good match. But part of me wondered if Coach Boomer was trying to punish me for being a sidekick, and not the prodigy hero he expected. Maybe I was overthinking it.

It made no difference. Warren and I stepped into the arena, and Bigs looked at me decisively. His stance was less cocky than usual, but his demeanor smacked of violence. He was going at me today, and I could tell he was going to try to hurt me.

I prepared myself for what I knew was coming. _Two can play at that game,_ I decided as I walked onto the playing field. Warren held me back suddenly.

"Warren, what's wrong?" I asked him. His eyes had a bitter tone to them, and I struggled to read his emotions.

"Let me have him," Warren said.

I was confused at first, then petulant. I thought that Warren felt I was incapable of handling Bigs. But I opened my mouth to protest and closed it again at the look in his eyes. Warren was being protective of me, sure- but the dangerous look on his face told me I better let him have his way. And I did.

We lined up against the other team, waiting for the buzzer. Bigs sneered at me.

"Go ahead and hide behind your _hero_ ," The size manipulator spat out, glaring at Warren, "But one day, I'm gonna get you to show those powers of yours."

My face must have paled, because Bigs continued on with renewed spite.

"You're gonna slip up someday, and I'm gonna be there to make sure it happens."

I couldn't respond. I was aware of Warren stepping in front of me, of flames spreading from his palms before the buzzer ever started the game.

 _BZZZZZZZZZZZZZ!_

Before I knew it, Warren and Bigs were halfway across the stadium fighting viciously. The crowd cheered them on. I snapped myself out of my thoughts and distanced myself from the distress I was feeling. My emotions could wait. I still had to take on Bigs' partner.

Several minutes passed. It wasn't my first time dealing with a geokinetic, and my reflexes were on par with my opponent's. I dodged the earth as he reshaped it under me, avoided pits, and landed a few blows when I could. The key with earth manipulators was to be on the earth as little as possible.

I was more concerned about Warren and Bigs. Under any other circumstance, I believed that Warren could put Bigs down in a heartbeat, but today the size manipulator seemed more driven and more vicious. I was surprised when the game wore on, and my partner didn't seem to land as many hits as I thought he would. I could see that Warren was becoming tired and his aim worsened gradually. The giant was wearing him down, and it was making me nervous.

As I kept an eye on my own opponent (a lower-classman not too in touch with his powers), I cursed at the scoreboard. Time was barely ticking by, and I knew that the longer we were in the ring with Bigman, the more likely Warren was to get hurt. I cursed Warren, too, for taking on the giant by himself. I cursed myself for letting him.

Warren was resorting to ducking and dodging (the best tactic against an enemy of considerable size). He had taken cover behind a brick wall in the "Downtown" area of the field. I was nearby and could hear him gasping for breath while he leaned heavily on the wall. Bigs was just gathering himself up for another attack.

Something in Bigman's eyes stopped me. The half-crazed glaze of the lunatic's scowl sent my heart pounding in panic, and my animal senses kicked in automatically. I tracked his movements for only a second, anticipating his next move, and my mind raced to find a resolution.

My feet were moving before I could think of what to do. I called out to Warren, commanding him to run from his hiding spot. Bigs' hand clenched into a fist and he pulled it back as if in slow-motion. My legs were carrying me to Warren, still leaning against the wall, looking at me confusedly.

 _Move, move!_ I tried to yell, yell to my beautiful idiot to get out of harm's way. Bigs' intentions had become clear to me- there was no way for him to catch Warren in the cacophony of phony buildings and brick walls of Downtown. So he would bring the whole thing crashing down on Warren.

All this passed through my mind in a matter of seconds. The size-manipulator's fist grew dangerously closer to the wall Warren was behind, and collided just as I reached my partner. I pushed off the ground with my legs, my strength enhanced by my powers, and gave everything I had to push Warren away from behind that wall. I was vaguely aware of Warren yell as I shoved him away with force, of the crashing of brick and buildings, of the panicked yelling of the crowds, and then I heard nothing…

… **..**

 _ **Phew, this was a long chapter to write!**_ **Sorry it took so long.** __ **I had a lot of things going on in this chapter that I wanted to make clear. So many developments! Will and Layla think Nora won't tell her parents about Save the Citizen because she's ashamed to be paired with Warren, a "villain". Warren and Nora are becoming more comfortable with one another, and things are advancing nicely. Bigs has got some kind of vendetta against our protag, and makes a shallow vow to get her to reveal her powers sooner or later. Poor Nora gets crushed under some bricks, and … Well, I guess you guys will have to wait to see what happens next *wink wink*. Hope you're enjoying this. Thanks for reading! Don't forget to leave me a review!**

 **P.S.- Sorry for the shameless Paper Lantern date. What can I say? It's a staple of all the good Warren Peace fanfics. All the other writers are doing it…**


	9. Chapter 9- Heating Up

… **(Warren POV) ….**

When my mind finally found my body, shock and pain swept through me- emotionally, and otherwise.

I came back to reality coughing and clutching at my chest, where Nora had collided with me. For a minute I thought maybe she'd _broken_ something in me, but that shouldn't be possible. Then again, what I'd seen in her eyes shouldn't be possible, either… The thought of my partner brought me back to myself, and I leaned upward in panic.

The rumbling demolition of the brick walls still reverberated in the gymnasium, and the dust was just settling. The students in the bleachers were screaming in horror, all voices shouting different messages. Boomer was hollering about something, but his words reached my ears as vibrating gibberish. I looked upon the pile of rubble, the layers and layers of bricks collapsed in on themselves, and realized with dread that Nora was under there somewhere.

I fell upon my knees next to the pile of stone and dug viciously at the bricks. I willed them to give Nora back to me, to reveal her to me. I felt as though I was digging for ages, and I finally found the voice to call into the stands.

"Will!" I cried, "Get down here and help me!"

Any other time I might've noted the crack in my voice. Not today.

Will was at my side in a matter of seconds. Soon after, the help of his super strength unearthed first a worn and beaten sneaker, then a pair of dirty jeans, and then finally the body they were attached to.

A crowd had formed around the action in the arena. Boomer was doing his best to give us some space to work, and Nurse Spex was just making her way through the thick group of students.

I called for Nora, but she didn't hear me. _I_ hardly heard myself, such was my anxiety and panic. The fear that Nora was hurt, really hurt, threatened to overcome me. I didn't know what else to do. I called for Nora again

Then Nurse Spex was there, using her powers to assess my fallen friend. No bones broken, she said in a calm voice, but we should get her to the nurse's office. My mind was in turmoil, but my body acted on its own- before I could even think about it, Nora was lifted up in my arms and I was following Nurse Spex through the endless hallways towards her office.

I looked down at Nora. Her eyes were closed, and her body was dirty and bruised. I wondered idly what color her eyes would be when they opened. Would they be the mossy green I had grown accustomed to? Or the eyes of her other self, the one she rarely revealed- the Nora that had used her crippling strength to push me from harm's way?

I found that I didn't care what color her eyes were, so long as they opened again.

Finally, the nurse's office came into sight. I laid Nora down on the padded examination table, my mind still separated from my actions. Nurse Spex commanded me out, assuring me Nora would be fine, and that I would be allowed in soon, and then a door closed in my face. It wasn't until after a minute or two of pacing up and down the hallway that Will's voice broke me from my daze.

" _Warren,"_ He called me as if from another room, his form blocking my path in the hallway. My eyes focused on him and I returned to myself.

"Nurse Spex said she'll be fine," Layla offered up sternly. Will's face showed signs of worry.

 _I guess we all care about Nora,_ I thought.

"Yeah," I agreed, taking a seat in a padded chair that lined the hall. I ran a hand through my hair.

"What about you?" Will asked me, kneeling on the floor in front of me. He put a comforting hand on my shoulder- I needed it.

"I'm gonna stay, just to make sure," I replied, my throat was dry. I cleared it. The bell rang for Study Hall. "You guys go to class, I'll stay here."

"A-are you sure?" Layla asked. Was she anxious to leave me? Or Nora? "We can skip."

"Yeah," My best friend agreed with a nod. I shook my head.

"It'll be fine," I breathed deeply, trying to believe in my own words, "Seriously. It's okay. You guys go ahead."

Will hesitated but nodded, patting my shoulder firmly. I thanked him silently. He and Layla retreated down the hallway. Another bell rang. I settled into the chair, and attempted to calm myself. I waited.

… **(Nora POV) ….**

I came to so gradually, I had my eyes open before my mind could catch up with what my body was doing. One minute I was out cold, and the next I was conscious.

 _That was easy,_ I thought Idly, until I tried to get up.

 _That_ hurt like a bitch.

I fell off the table and overturned a medical cart on my way down. The small room trapped the noise of metal instruments falling on tile, and the echoes continued to bounce around in my head. My senses were still sensitive from using my powers, and I gasped out a string of cuss words when I hit the floor. My body was still sensitive, too.

"Well, it's good to see you up," A lady in a white uniform helped me up off the floor and onto the table. She made me lay down, though I was willing to oblige her. My head hurt most of all.

I had my eyes closed, since what little light there was in the room was irritating my senses. They usually became heightened on their own in fight-or-flight situations, and much like adrenaline they needed time to wear off. The nurse was calmly picking up the items from the cart.

"Sorry about that," I offered feebly. I draped an arm across my eyes to keep the light out.

She didn't respond, but I heard her laugh.

A moment later, I felt her presence at my side. I squinted up at her.

"What are you doing?" I asked her, as her eyes glowed red and roamed the area of my vital organs.

"Checking you for injuries," she answered, turning her powers off and smiling at me with normal eyes. She tapped her head lightly. "X-ray vision."

"How'd you get that, beta radiation or something?" I asked half sarcastically.

"Or something," She said, turning back to me with a thermometer. "Here."

I held it under my tongue obediently, reading her nametag from the corner of my eye. The thermometer beeped.

"One hundred and three point nine…" she read, looking at me quizzically. I waved the look away.

"Trust me, it's normal," I grumbled, and it was the truth- my powers often took a toll on my temperature, elevating it into what was typically an unhealthy region. It would return to normal as soon as the effects wore off, which would be soon enough. Spex looked at me curiously.

"I've heard a lot about you, Ms. Stone," She said in an off-hand way, looking at me from the corner of her eye.

"Good or bad?" I inquired, "Wait, nevermind- don't tell me."

I leaned up gingerly, careful this time. My head hurt, and my clothes were dirty, and I felt like stale bread.

"From what I've heard about you, I'm surprised I haven't seen you in here sooner," The nurse teased me good-naturedly, and I groaned under my breath as I rubbed my face tiredly. Exhaustion swept through me as my powers continued to wear off.

"Honestly? Me too."

Nurse Spex commanded me to rest, which wouldn't be hard- I was almost ready to pass back out from sheer fatigue.

"I think you ought to just stay in here until the final bell rings," She told me, making notes on her clipboard. "Just a little while longer."

She looked up from writing, pointing at the closed door with her pen.

"There's someone waiting for you. Shall I let him in?" She asked.

I nodded, and closed my eyes.

"Do me a favor though, and look him over, too," I requested, "Especially the chest area. Keep an eye out for broken ribs."

 _That's the way to a guys heart, tackle him into the ground and break his bones…_ I thought to myself.

Nurse Spex retreated into her office to finish her paperwork before the end of the school day. It was Friday, after all, and no one liked to go home with work over the weekend. There were low voices in the hallway, and the door swung open just a little bit as Warren stepped in quietly. He closed it again gently, making no noise, and approaching in silence.

"It's okay, I'm not asleep," I said, but I didn't open my eyes. I heard him breathe out in exhasperation (maybe I startled him), and he walked with normal steps. There was the scrape of metal chair legs on tile floor, and the settling of a body into a seat. Moments passed in silence. I was so, so tired. Maybe I could take a nap before I had to get on the-

"I'm gonna rip his throat out."

Warren's voice pulled me back from the brink of rest, and my eyes came open slowly. I waited for a second, but I already knew what I was going to say.

"Warren, that's the game," I said blandly, not having enough energy to embellish my words with emotion or conviction. Just cold, hard truths, that's all I had energy enough for.

I turned on my side, curling up with an arm nestled between my head and the padded table. I looked upon Warren for the first time in the nurse's office. He was sitting close to my bed, backwards, on a chair. He sat straddling it and holding onto the back rungs with gloved hands (well, fingerless-gloved hands). It felt like ages since I set eyes on him. In the dim shadows of the office, he was even more gorgeous than I remembered. His face was unmoving. I felt sympathy and pity move onto mine, and I mustered up a half smile.

"What do you think is going to happen when we're off fighting _real_ villains?" I asked quietly, tentatively using the v-word. I tried not to use that word around Warren. He shifted his position, leaning forward against the back of the chair and crossing his arms over the back. I could tell from the softening of the lines around his eyes that he knew I was right.

"Look," I said softly, "You're the hero. I'm the sidekick. You just do what it is you need to do, and let me worry about the consequences. Okay?"

"Okay," Warren responded in turn, eyes finding their way to the dirty tile flooring I'd been personally acquainted with. It was clear he'd say no more, and whether or not he truly understood me remained to be seen.

But I didn't have the energy required to invest in a heart-to-heart bonding moment with my pyrokinetic. My eyes slid closed, and my body settled on its side. I let out a quiet hum.

"Just do your best, and let me worry about backing you up," I mumbled, "You can count on me."

I was half-asleep when I heard him say quietly, almost to himself, "I know."

…

"Now, you make sure she gets home okay," Nurse Spex shook a friendly finger at Warren from her office doorway. Students were filing through the halls, buzzing excitedly with talk of the weekend. School was over, and thank God for that.

"I will," Warren responded, steering me through the building with his hand gripped around my shoulders. This was better than the piggy back he'd offered, and I hadn't wanted him to hold onto my forearm like I was an old lady that needed help crossing the street. The last thing I needed was to feel weak.

"You don't need to," I protested, my pride injured, "I'm fine now."

Warren shook his head, and if anything his grip on me tightened. We stepped through the main entrance and onto the sunny terrace. I squinted at the bright sunlight.

"Are you kidding me? I'm not letting you out of my sight," Warren maintained, and I gave in. I was tired and bruised, and mostly I just wanted to be home. I didn't have the strength left in me to fight it anymore, so I dropped it.

I looked around us as we stepped onto the lawn. It was beautiful out- crystal blue skies, crisp air, and a breeze. There was electricity in the air from the general excitement of a Friday, and different cliques gathered across the quad to discuss plans, flirt, throw footballs…

I breathed it in deeply, remembering where I was. The scene was far from idyllic (this was _highschool,_ after all), but nonetheless it made me feel like a normal teenager on her way home from school.

Warren's grip on my shoulder tightened, and suddenly grew painful. My eyes snapped to him in concern, but his look was far away- far away across the lawn. His jaw clenched and rippled, and his nostrils flared. His eyes grew dangerously dark, and I soon realized why as my eyes traced the path of his gaze.

"Warren, no."

Before I could reach out and grab him, Warren dropped his backpack onto the grass and strode unwaveringly across the lawn.

" _ **HEY!**_ _"_

Warren's voice ripped across the open space. I had never heard him yell like that. People flinched, hurrying out of his way. Farther up, standing among a group of his friends, Bigman looked up in surprise. He was shaken to see Warren confronting him, but he soon gathered a grim and vile expression onto his face.

Warren was pacing too fast for me to catch up with him, even if I'd tried- which, in my weakened condition, I couldn't. Anxiety grew in me as I looked on at the scene unfolding, and a sour feeling settled into the pit of my stomach.

"Why don't you get your ass over here and answer for what you did to my partner?!" Warren challenged Bigs, not even waiting for a response. With a yell, his arms went up in flames and he stalked angrily towards the size manipulator. I looked on, mouth open in shock. He was openly declaring war.

Bigman followed suit, growing monstrously large in seconds. The tension built as the two gathered speed to clash in the middle of the lawn, and-

 _NYOOOOOM! CRASH!_

The sound of a meteor hitting the lawn reached my ears before the shockwaves reached me. The earth shook, and I struggled to balance myself. Warren and Bigs were thrown back from the force of impact of the comet, the sudden surprise forcing the size manipulator down to his normal mass.

The grass was torched where Principle Powers stood, and a dent formed a neat circle under her patent leather pumps. I realized she must have anticipated the fight from her office, which sat on the corner of the main building overlooking the front part of campus. I was glad she'd arrived in time to break it up. She was, however, extremely _pissed._

"That's enough out of you two," She hissed out, livid. She swiveled her eyes between both boys. "I mean it! That's the end of this, do you hear me? _Break it up_."

Warren and Bigs got to their feet. The crowd that had formed around the fight soon dissipated, and the tension declined gradually. Principle Powers stood between Warren and Bigs, and although she was a normal size woman, her presence was threatening. She glared at Bigs, then Warren, and then her eyes fixed on me from halfway across the yard. I paled, though I had done nothing wrong.

" _Don't let it happen again,"_ she spat out, looking not at either boy but at me. I maintained her gaze as best I could. Why did I feel guilty, like I had somehow provoked the fight?

She turned her eyes from me, thankfully. Both boys retreated, Warren turning his back on Bigman first. I could see a cloud come into the bully's eyes as he trained his gaze on the back of Warren's head, before turning back to his group of friends. I think Principle Powers saw it, too, before she jetted herself back into her office. Her comet trail left a cloudy arch in the sky above the school. I bet her commute in the morning was easy.

Warren stalked back towards me, scooping his backpack from the grass onto his shoulder. He walked fast, too fast for me, as he steered me to my bus. His hand gripped my upper arm in a way that I knew would leave a bruise.

He ushered me into a seat, and I obeyed. I didn't speak. Warren just sat and breathed deeply, looking forwards through the windshield of the bus. The driver, Ron I think his name was, looked at me apprehensively in the mirror. I nodded to him, telling him it was okay, and he turned back to the wheel. He closed the doors. We pulled away from the school.

I thought Warren was going to calm down as we left the school, but as the bus flew through the atmosphere, he grew more upset. His usually placid expression was furious, shaken, and he dug his nails into the seat.

It scared me.

The smell of burnt leather reached my nose, and I looked down at Warren's hands. While they were not on fire, it was clear from the fumes that the hazy smolder was coming from under his palms.

"Warren, what are you doing?" I said in a startled whisper, "Warren, stop!"

"I can't help it, Nora!" He responded in a hushed and panicked voice, squeezing his eyes shut, attempting to control his powers.

"Stop it, Warren!"

He shook his head, fighting for dominion over the flames that threatened to burst from his hands.

"I- I can't," he insisted, brows creased and eyes closed. I grabbed his face forcefully.

" _Warren, look at me."_ I demanded, " _And_ _ **STOP**_."

His eyes met mine, and I used my powers then.

I had only used my powers like this once before. Hiking, in the mountains, I'd stumbled across a cougar. They're much bigger in real life than you expect, and it startled me. Instead of turning to run or trying to fight, I'd stared it straight in the eyes. _I'd growled at it_. My family, who was with me at the time, reported that I held the cougar's gaze for solid minutes. My eyes turned color, indicating that I was using my powers, and neither of us had moved- not I, nor the beast. Eventually, the cougar backed down, retreating into the woods with a snarl.

I learned that day that my powers not only extended into heightened senses, but a heightened sense of dominance and willpower.

I hoped the same thing would work with Warren, today, or else the whole bus was going up in flames.

…

 **Hey, y'all! There's more I wanted to add into this chapter, but it's pretty long as it is. Plus, I gotta leave you with cliffhangers like these, so you keep coming back for more haha.**

 **Sorry I fell off the face of the earth… again. I'm taking some summer classes, and I just finished up my exams, and now I'm headed on vacation. I'll try to shoot off another chapter before I leave, but no promises.**

 **Thank you so much for reading and reviewing. It encourages me as a writer, and I'm glad you guys get a kick out of my little imaginings. Talk to you soon!**


	10. Chapter 10- Heating Up (Pt 2)

"Warren, give me your hands."

Our bodies were already sidled up to one another, our legs flush. I felt the heat of his figure through his jeans and tried to ignore the intensity of it. Warren was losing his grip over his powers, and he needed to get control of them _soon,_ or else the entire school bus was going up in flames.

Forty-five thousand feet in the air, I'd say our chances of surviving a burning, falling school bus was slim-to-none.

I held Warren locked in my gaze. For my powers to work, for my willpower to overcome his, it was vital that our eyes never left one another's. I held my hands out to him. He shook his head.

"No, I'll hurt you," He muttered, and I could see the intense concentration happening behind a pained expression. His dark hair fell in his face, and his mouth creased in distress at the corners. His dark eyes were glazed, and I knew that if I didn't bring him down soon, it was all over. I brushed the hair out of his face, and saw his pupils dilate and his gaze begin to focus.

" _Give me your hands,"_ I demanded, and he did. They were hot to the touch, almost unbearably so, but I gritted my teeth and grabbed them tight. I maintained eye contact with the pyrokinetic sharing my seat.

" _Listen to me,"_ I coached him, using every ounce of my remaining energy to influence Warren's willpower. _"Calm down. It's over now."_

I felt his hands cool by a fraction of a degree. I had to make my resolve greater than his panic, to somehow lend him the strength to overcome the powers that were threatening to spiral out of control.

" _It's okay, now. Everything's gonna be fine. Cool down a little."_

His skin burned less now, for sure. I continued to encourage him, and as time wore on his skin grew slowly but surely cooler under my touch.

" _You're fine, okay? You've got it under control."_ I urged him, and he nodded once. His brown eyes were hyper-focused on my own, and they were wide with shock and distress. The calm and collected Warren Peace I'd known gave way to an individual who was much like a lost child, afraid, and in need of comfort. I'd never seen this side of him before.

Finally, his body returned to normal, and our stare was broken. I collapsed back into the seat with a gasp- the energy depletion hit me harder than I thought it would. Warren's shoulders were hunched up near his ears as he sat forward in the seat, with his forearms resting on his knees. He was breathing heavily, too.

I sat straight up, and let my head fall back against the seat. My chest rose and fell rapidly, and I struggled to regulate my breathing. I finally did after a few seconds. I sat still, fatigue washing over me like a wave, and felt my eyes close. I was so, so tired.

Warren leaned back likewise, head falling back onto the leather seat. His breaths were irregular, too, but he was slowly returning to normal. I cracked my eyes open and looked around us. No one seemed to have taken notice of our personal dilemma. It was as if it had happened in our own little world, that no one else could see.

Except the bus driver. I saw Ron cast a final glance into the back seat at us, and he stealthily stowed a portable fire extinguisher back under the driver's seat. He was smarter than most people gave him credit for.

I closed my eyes again as both Warren and I returned to normal. I could still feel his body heat dissipate through his jeans and penetrate my own form, but it was nothing like it had been. I had felt it decline firsthand. I listened to his even, steady breathing. He'd be fine, now.

I let out a contented hum, knowing the danger was passed, and pulled one of his hands into my lap. I enveloped it with both of my own as if to assure myself that Warren was indeed in control of his fire powers.

"You know," I mumbled out tiredly, "For a guy with fire powers, you're normally pretty chill."

Warren grunted something, and I felt his hand shift in mine.

"I didn't use to be," He said quietly, so softly I almost didn't hear. His voice was husky as if he hadn't used it in a long time.

"What changed?" I asked.

"Me, I guess," He explained, more to himself than to me. We were quiet. A heaviness had descended on my body like a cloud, and exhaustion covered me like a weighty blanket. The rumble of the bus rocked me in my seat, putting me asleep like a baby. I was almost asleep when Warren's voice pulled me back from the brink of rest for the second time that day.

"Nora, what's your power?"

I was quiet. I'd known we would talk about this someday. In the back of my mind, I knew that he had seen my eyes change when I used my powers to bring him under control. He had _felt_ me use my powers over him. Part of me called out, from the back of my consciousness, to make up an excuse; tell him not to ask anymore; lie to him; make something up. Part of me wanted to tell him the truth. Mostly, after the day I'd had, I just wanted to sleep.

"Being your sidekick," I settled- it was the only coherent thought I could render. I hoped the simple response was enough to explain to Warren all the things I wanted to tell him, but couldn't, wouldn't. I didn't want to push him away, but I valued my anonymity and newfound identity more than anything else, and he had to respect that.

On my lap, the hand I had been cradling wiggled and turned until Warren's was linked with mine. His fingers curled around my own, enveloping them, and my hand seemed small in comparison. His answer was plain and sweet. I liked that about him.

"Okay," He said, and I fell asleep.

…..

My stop came sooner than I hoped. During the ride I'd drifted in between sleep and consciousness, all the while gladly aware that I was holding Warren Peace's hand… and that he was holding mine.

I stepped off the bus and onto the sidewalk. Warren followed suit. I turned and thanked Ron, giving him a knowing nod that I hoped said, _"Thanks for looking out for us."_ He nodded back and tipped his hat before the bus pulled away. He knew what I meant.

The evening was just barely growing dark, and a shiver went through me. Ironic, considering I'd spent the entire bus ride basking in Warren's heat. But now that we stood apart on the pavement I was much colder than I should have been.

"Thanks for taking me home," I mumbled out. Was that the right thing to say? Should I go with, _"Thanks for almost starting a fight for me"_? Or _"Thanks for listening to me, and not burning the bus down"_? I was unsurprisingly ill-versed in these matters.

"No problem," Warren responded, looking ahead and observing the structure I called home. It was a simple little thing- two stories, four bedrooms, a small porch lining the front of the house. The trees in the yard and surrounding woods were starting to turn color, and the gold tips of the leaves made the brick house seem warm. I wanted to invite him in, but I realized with sudden clarity that he must never meet my family, or vice versa. My secret identity was sure to be found out then.

A small form darted across the lawn towards us. My cat let out a sharp meow as she strode up, looking up with alert eyes first at Warren, then me. I crouched down with a smile to greet her.

"You're a cat person," Warren said, surprised. I smiled when my cat turned clockwise as I petted her, and I heard low purring. She regarded Warren coolly.

As if on cue, barking erupted from inside the house- the figure of a large dog appeared in the living room window, leaning his great front paws on the windowsill. I heard shouting- my mom, probably- the dog glanced back into the room, and obediently removed his paws from the windowsill. He continued to look through the pane and bark periodically.

"I'm an animal person," I responded, standing. It was a true statement in more ways than one. The cat jogged to the doorstep, sitting on the porch, and looking over her shoulder at me. She spent the days inside, and at night she paced at the doorway, meowing until she was let out, waiting to hunt in the woods. Mostly, she did what she wanted.

"Thanks again," I told him, turning towards home. Warren grabbed my wrist.

"Nora, uh-m," He started, and I turned to him. He jerkily let go of me and buried his hands deep in his pockets, embarrassed. "Thank you, for… you know…"

He seemed to be half blushing. The look on his face was contemplative, and he struggled for the right words. I smiled at him when he couldn't find them.

"Any time," I told him, and blushed a little, too. "I, um, I'll see you Monday."

"Yeah," He nodded, and waved weakly as he retreated down the sidewalk. He didn't live very far from my home at the edge of the neighborhood, so I knew he'd get to his house okay. I walked tiredly up to the front door, calling the cat, and we both stepped inside.

… **(Warren POV)…..**

The kitchen was hazy with bright streaks of sunlight. I slumped over a cup of dark, black tea and breathed in the fumes. My mom was humming to herself as she made her own morning cup of tea, and took the first, contented sip as she leaned against the counter.

"So, are we going to talk about what happened on Friday?" she said.

My mind was blank. I was tired from working the previous night, and I hadn't gotten a shower in before bed so I still smelled like Chinese food. I tried to maintain my cool as I began to understand what she meant.

"Principle Powers called," My mom went on, body relaxed and comfortable against the kitchen counter. "She said you almost got into it, you and another boy."

Though her voice was far from accusatory, I could hear the analytical brain of a lawyer turning gears. It was Sunday- Powers wouldn't have called on a Sunday, so that meant my mom had gotten the call at least a day or two before this conversation. Which meant that she'd had lots of time to think about it. Which meant I had to be _very careful_ of what I said.

I decided not to say anything. I was taking the fifth, as it were.

I looked down into the black cup of tea, as if the answer was there. My mom didn't push it. She puttered around the kitchen, clearing clean dishes from the dishwasher, and wiping the counters down idly, waiting for me to form a coherent thought.

"It's been a long time since you got into any trouble," She finally spoke up, as if she meant to say that I must have had a very good reason for my actions. She was giving me the benefit of the doubt, as she had done my whole life, even when I hadn't deserved it.

"I don't know, mom," I breathed out tiredly. "I was walking, and then I saw him, and I just… started _heating up._ I couldn't help myself."

I was half ashamed to tell her that. I hadn't had problems with my powers like that since my dad got put away. She comprehended my meaning immediately, and looked at me from the corner of her eye before turning to the dirty dishes in the sink. The dishwasher came open with a groan, and the sound of running water filled the kitchen.

"Why'd he make you so upset?" She asked over the clanking of ceramic plates. I rubbed my tired eyes and pinched the bridge of my nose.

"Nora," I said, trying to maintain neutrality in my voice but failing. Her name came out of my mouth with simultaneous exasperation and admiration.

"He's got this thing against Nora," I continued, not bothering to give her an explanation of why. I myself didn't quite know what they had against one another, but whatever the reason, I knew whose side I was on. "He pulled a stunt in gym, and it almost got her really hurt."

My mom smiled where she thought I couldn't see. I couldn't find humor in any of this.

"And that made you mad?" She asked, glancing sideways at me. "Mad enough to start a fight?"

I hesitated. "Not at first," I admitted, struggling to find the words to explain what I was really feeling. "I was just scared, I guess. For her."

Mom nodded, comprehension on her face. She asked me no more questions, and I offered no more information, but still… She was quiet, too quiet, as if she knew something I didn't. I turned back to my tea in mild irritation.

 _If she knows something I don't, I wish she'd enlighten me…_ I thought, but I didn't ask why she continued to load the dishwasher with a meaningful smile on her face.

Part of me already knew why.

… **. (3** **rd** **Person POV)…**

Later that Sunday, Will Stronghold lounged on his back in the Peace's garage. The creeper* he was laying on was stretched fully out, as it should be to roll a mechanic under a parked car, but the teen lay comfortably sipping soda. Warren leaned over the hood of an old muscle car, his father's, and sounds of metal on metal echoed in the garage.

"… She just _pushed me_ out of the way, Will," Warren continued, standing up straight, throwing his hands up in the air from sheer vexation.

"Look, look!" He pulled his shirt up to reveal bruising on his abdomen and chest. Will leaned up in surprise.

"Nora did _that?_ " Will asked in surprise. The bruises were new, but they were dark and deep.

 _It looks like something_ _ **I**_ _could have done,_ Will thought to himself in amazement. Warren pulled his shirt back down, leaving grease spattered on the material.

"Yeah," Warren said, rubbing the spot unconsciously, "Spex told me a couple of ribs got cracked during the process."

Will whistled lowly.

Warren dug through a drawer full of wrenches, talking over the clatter.

"She literally pushed me out of the way of a falling building," Warren grumbled, shaking his head tiredly. He turned around with a wrench in hand. "I don't know whether to be impressed or frustrated."

"Both?" Will suggested, and his best friend cracked a smile. He leaned back into the engine of the car with a scoff.

Will laid back down on the stretcher. He'd come to Warren's house today to hang out with his best friend, sure, but he'd intended to break the heavy news Layla had put on him the previous weekend. It had weighed on Will's conscience all week that Nora didn't want her family to know of her affiliation with Warren. He could think of only one plausible reason that she would want their Save the Citizen partnership kept secret, and it was because of Warren's reputation. Now, Will struggled even more after hearing the admiration in his best friend's voice- should he say something, or not?

"It's just that… she didn't even think about it," Warren's voice pulled Will back into the conversation. "She's crazy, is what she is," Warren mumbled to himself, a smile pulling at his lips. He lifted the air intake cover and placed it with a grunt on the workbench. He stood with his back to Will, still and silent and lost in thought. Will waited for him to speak.

"You know," Warren started quietly, "She's one of the only people who doesn't treat me like a- "

He stopped short of the v-word, but Will knew what he meant. And it was apparent that Warren regarded Nora as an ally and a friend. He valued her as more than a sidekick, Will thought, but knew better than to bring it up. To everyone else, the pair seemed to complement one another, and their partnership was mutually benevolent- to everyone but Will, that is, who had more information than the common bystander.

"I know," Will said, as Warren turned back to the car. Neither boy looked at one another. Will squashed the conflict rising inside of him- _How can I ever tell Warren now?_ he thought- and swallowed his words. He would stay silent for a while longer.

… **..**

 ***"Creeper" is the name of a rolling bench you might find in a mechanic's garage. It adjusts so that it's a rolling stool you can sit on upright, or you can fold it flat to roll under a car and work on the undercarriage. I am by no means a mechanic, and this is the only way I've ever hear these typed of seats called. If you call them something else, message me and tell me. I'm curious! LOL**

 **Happy Ten-Chapter Anniversary! That was a fun chapter to write. I really wanted to give Mrs. Peace more of a face than the movie did. Plus, I felt the need to illustrate the relationship Warren has with his mother, because I feel it's often overlooked. Also, I felt like changing POV, just because I can haha! Hope you guys like it. Don't be worried if I don't post again for a while, because I'm going on vacation. Leave me a review and let me know what you think!**


	11. Chapter 11- Tuna (This is the real chap)

I wiped the sweat from my brow with the shoulder of my tank top. After the first twenty minutes or so of hauling materials into and out of the old potting shed, I'd opted out of the flannel button-up that served as my jacket. It was just after school on a weekday, and the drama club was meeting at the usual time. Inside the auditorium the thespians bustled busily, reciting lines and discussing blocking. I tried to avoid the crowd when I could- the echoes in the old gymnasium overwhelmed my senses too easily.

I set about working on the sets just outside the auditorium. The emergency doors exiting to the outside lawn sat propped open, cooling the mass of people in the gym and simultaneously offering me an escape. I was conferring with my blue prints for the set, checking and re-checking dimensions of the stage. The materials the club had gathered were scant, mostly scrap wood and refuse from construction sites, but it was better than nothing.

I headed back into the gym to retrieve my backpack, which I'd left against the wall, and looked up in time to see a familiar form in the double doors at the opposite end of the gym. Warren strode in, searching the crowd for something, and I was pleased when I realized it was me. Several people greeted him on his way by, and he nodded back. One young freshman caught him in the middle of the room, talked to him, and gestured to my corner with the point of a hand. Warren caught my gaze, thanked the freshman, and headed towards me. I waited for him in the doorway.

"Hey, Peace!" Steven called from the stage with a smile, and heads turned. "We're down an actor and need a fill-in. You game?"

"Absolutely not," Warren called back with the shake of his head and a good-natured smile, and laughter rumbled through the nearby students. They turned back to reciting as Warren reached me.

"Hey," He greeted me, and surprised me when he bent down to hug me. I wrapped my arms around him quicker than I meant to, and breathed in the smell of his jacket- leather and engine grease. It was quickly becoming my favorite scent.

"Hi," I heard my own voice come out a pitch higher than normal. Warren let go and we stepped into the fall air.

"What're you working on?" He asked, sitting on the grass next to me and observing the blueprint I was contemplating.

"Just some sets," I responded, taking a carpenter pencil out of my backpack to begin marking pieces of wood. "God only knows what they're gonna look like when I'm through with them."

I was only half-joking that time. I had no idea how to build sets. I had done model airplanes or Lincoln logs as a kid, but the more time I spent working on the sets the less confident I felt.

"You seem like you have it pretty well-planned," He complimented me, and I smiled nervously. Images of the sets falling apart during the play flashed through my mind, and I wondered if I could be held legally responsible for injuries occurring on-stage.

"Do you want some help putting them together?" He offered, his voice hopeful. He looked at me expectantly.

"Yes!" I answered a tad too desperately, "Please. That would be great."

Warren smiled.

For the next several hours, he helped me assemble the pieces of wood. He modified the braces for the backdrop walls so they'd be more stable (and less likely to fall on an unsuspecting passer-by), and Warren somehow managed to borrow power tools from the evening janitor. I was grateful for the aid, but mostly I was just glad that it was Warren who was helping me.

We took a break around dinner time to eat. Although the cafeteria was closed, I'd gotten into the swing of late-night drama practice so I'd packed food. We sat on the back lawn facing the sunset, and I handed Warren half of my sandwich.

"How do you feel about tuna?" I asked him, handing over the food. He wiped the sawdust from his hands onto his dark jeans and took it gratefully.

"I'm partial to it," He responded, eating it in a couple bites like a typical teenage boy. I rummaged in my bag and found a granola bar, which I handed to him next.

"Ha, joke's on you," I said between bites, "Now we both have tuna breath."

He laughed a real laugh. His eyes turned up into dark slits and his dimpled cheeks looked rosy in the sunset. His teeth shone brilliant white in the dimming light, and his skin glowed golden.

"Come here," He teased me, grabbing me suddenly by the arm and pulling me in towards him playfully, "Tell me if I have tuna breath- _aaaah,"_ He breathed at me with his mouth wide open, and I squirmed away from him, giggling.

"EW, STOP!" I laughed loudly as he forced my face closer to his, "Gross, it really smells like tuna!"

"You _liiiiike_ it," Warren tormented me, exaggeratedly breathing in my direction. I got so distracted by what little space remained between our bodies, that I dropped my sandwich on the grass by accident. It was probably better that way- a minute longer of him teasing me and I might've just reached out and kissed him.

"Hey, look what you made me do!" I squeezed out, barely forming coherent words between laughs. I snatched the food back up from the ground and looked at Warren. His face was flushed and his honey eyes shone mischievously as he righted himself, detaching his limbs from mine. Immediately, I wished he wouldn't.

"Five second rule," He conceded and reached over to pick a blade of grass off the bread, "A little dirt never hurt anyone."

I agreed, and ate my sandwich in peace. The sun was almost below the horizon then, and the lights from inside the auditorium became more pronounced in the dimming sunlight. I glanced inside at the students playing improv games, doing homework between scenes, discussing costumes. I looked sideways at Warren.

"Everyone really likes you," I commented, gesturing into the gym with a thumb. He peeped back over his shoulder.

"I'm a likeable guy," He responded with a wink, and I cracked a smile. He was in a good mood today, and a small voice inside me dared to hope it was because of my prescence.

"You're becoming a regular fixture around here," I warned him, shaking a finger at him, "You better be careful or it'll start to affect your image."

Warren reclined on the grass, resting his elbows on the ground and crossing his combat boots at the ankles. The setting sun carved his features in bronze, and I appreciated his jawline with renewed energy. He grinned up at me.

"I'm starting to care less and less about my image," He declared, and I smiled at him.

"I know," I said.

…

School continued on in just such a fashion. Warren showed up more often than not to help me with the sets, and they were done much faster than I could've done by myself. Steven had reqruited several art students to paint the backdrops we built, so at least I was spared that (my art skills left something to be desired- like _creativity_ ).

As the play drew nearer, I started on the costumes. The drama club was sorely lacking in that department, but most students had theater experience of some kind or another and were able to scrounge up materials from home. I quickly learned that improvisation was employed not only on the stage, but in the dressing room too. Old pillowcases became fringed tunics, and sheets evolved into billowing capes. There was no end to the resourcefulness of the drama club. What is it they say, "Necessity is the mother of invention"?

I became accustomed to sitting quietly outside in the crisp air, sewing on fringes and tassles, taking costumes in, working on hems. Warren often kept me company, sitting quietly beside me while doing homework or studying. During those times, our bodies sidled up to one another in the cool outdoors, silently enjoying the other's prescence. His existence made everything a little less stressful as the end of the season drew to a close. Before I knew it, it was a few days until Tech Week and the club was scrambing to learn lines, finish back drops, perfect blocking, organize costumes- poor Steven ran around, frantically trying to salvage what he could of the play, and I did my best to help.

At the same time, Layla was working on her greenhouse restoration project, working wonders with the old building. Since I'd discovered it she'd since banished the weeds and sorted through the potting tables inside. The glass that enveloped the structure was missing some panels, and although it was still hazy and hard to see through, it was mostly clean and structurally sound. In my free period I took to spending time there with her, caring for the seedlings and transplants, and working on whatever other manual labor she needed me to do.

Although, she needed little help- her botanokinesis made her the chairman of the Environmental Science club, and her relationship with plants kept all varieties in the greenhouse thriving and striving.

Between Save the Citizen practice, the greenhouse, and classes in general, I ended up spending a lot of time with Layla, Warren, and Will. I struggled to understand their dynamic and to function in it. It was easy to see how much Warren appreciated his friendship with Will, and I tried to value Will the same way. But I couldn't help but be thrown by the feeling that Will was holding me at an arm's length, regarding me politely but not quite as a friend. It bothered me more than it should have.

Tech Week came and went in a haze. Every night after school was spent in the auxillary auditorium, and tensions ran high. I was feeling stretched pretty thin between that, and Save the Citizen practice. The homecoming tournament was coming up fast, and somehow I felt myself dreading it- I was shocked to find myself reluctant to play the bracket. I soon realized that it wasn't the games I feared, but what came after them… _homecoming._

I did my best to resolve myself to the present. Take one step, and then another, and take all things in stride; I had the play to worry about first, then I could take on the Save the Citizen tourney, and finally I could address my feelings towards the dance. Until then? I don't know. Maybe I'd get lucky and die before the dance came, I reckoned.

About that dance I knew one thing for sure- there was no way I was getting through it in one piece.

…..

 _ **So… this chapter is short. It's got some light fluff in it, which is a plus, but mostly it sucks. I'm admitting it, right now, that way no one else can say it haha. I almost didn't post it because of the people that said this is one of their favorite sky high fics (I feel like I'm letting you down with this crappy chapter). It's the best I got right now so it'll have to do. Leave a review if you can- I appreciate the encouragement!**_


	12. Ch 12- No Party Like a Cast Party

**Hey, all. Fair warning- some mature themes in this one (drinking, partying, sexiness, etc.), but nothing too raunchy. I try to keep it classy *insert cool sunglasses emoji here*.**

… **..**

The play flew by as a blur. For the entire week leading up to the performances, I was in a whirl; last-minute costume changes were brought before me right and left, one of the sets needed to be patched after someone put their fist through a false wall, and I somehow unwillingly became the Props Master. For the three days that the club performed the play, I walked with my pockets stuffed full of clothes pins (for emergency alterations) and I carried a roll of duct tape on my wrist. The energy of the club mounted to great heights, and although it overwhelmed me, I admired how the actors conducted themselves with vigor and passion.

And suddenly, all three performances were over. Saturday soiree came and went as the 5 pm performance came off without a hitch (well, without any hitches that couldn't be _improvised_ through). The turnout was better than I thought it would be, and Steven was joyous to the point of tears at having pulled off a successful act.

That Saturday, after having been dragged out onto the stage with the rest of the actors to endure applause and recognition that I felt utterly embarrassing, the troupe headed backstage. Steven delivered a short-but-sweet speech of gratitude and pride that left a smile on everyone's face. The club then spent a short time chatting with family and friends that had come to support them, but soon everyone had congregated back around the stage.

The stage lights were off, and all that remained were the hazy yellow lights from the old auxiliary gym. The doors were propped open to allow the cool evening air into the auditorium, and the actors bustled busily about. With renewed energy they set about packing away costumes and props, organizing them into carefully labeled boxes. Other students broke down the chairs in the audience and swept up the refuse that the crowd left behind. Still others tucked the false walls and backdrops into the far corners of backstage- I had never seen a group of teenagers get organized so fast, and work as quickly as the club was working now.

"Hey, Steven, what's the rush?" I caught him as he walked by. He turned to me with a devious grin but we were interrupted before he could explain.

"Yo, Nora! Steven!"

We both turned our heads to see Warren approach. A smile lit my face immediately upon setting eyes on him.

"What are you doing here?" I asked him, perching a head or so above him as I stood on the steps leading up to the stage.

"I came out to see the play," Warren responded from ground-level, reaching out to Steven with a gloved hand. "My compliments to the director."

"Thanks!" Steven beamed, shaking Warren's hand excitedly and flushing in the face.

"I also figured you guys could use some help breaking down the set," Warren continued, looking apprehensively at the kids who hustled across the stage, frantically working. "Maybe you don't need so much help after all."

"Yeah, what gives?" I asked Steven, craning my neck to see into his eyes. He was standing above me, on the stage. That grin slid back onto my friend's face.

"Everyone's just excited to get to the cast party," He explained, assuming a casual air, "It's a tradition- clean up first, party after. You're coming, aren't you, Nora?"

I was caught off guard, and Steven knew it. His eyes sparkled down at me as I tried to regain my senses and make up a plausible excuse to bail the party.

"Oh, uhm…" I stuttered, eyes flashing to Warren who looked at me blankly. I weighed my options in my head- _Should I go and socialize? Parties tend to bring out the_ _ **other side**_ _in me…-_ but I couldn't respond quickly enough.

"Go ahead," Warren encouraged me with a brilliant smile, "Have some fun, Nora."

Steven's grin grew more scheming as his eyes swiveled between us.

"Oh, you're invited, too," Steven told Warren, and I saw his face go blank. It gave me strange pleasure to see Warren just as thrown as I was. "You don't do as much work as you did, and not get honorary-stage-hand status."

Steven took a few good strides across the stage and looked back over his shoulder at our uneasy faces. "See you both there at nine!"

….

"You cannot wear _that."_

My older sister stood in the doorway of our conjoining bathroom with a hairbrush in her hand. I stood in front of my full-length mirror clad in jeans and a long-sleeved Henley, dark purple in color. I turned to her with my arms crossed (I'd just been thinking the same thing, but I'd be damned before I admitted that to her) and assumed a sarcastic look.

"What's wrong with this?" I asked, and she shook her head at me as she invited herself into my room.

"Sweetie, it's a _party,"_ She coached me, "Not another day at school. Pick something else."

I sighed and stripped my shirt off, pulling on a different top.

"Jo, is this any better?" I asked, stepping out of my closet. She sat on my bed with her legs crossed, brushing her long blonde hair and looking at me disapprovingly. I sighed.

"Wait here," She commanded me, heading through the bathroom into her own bedroom. "I think I have something I can lend you."

Five outfits, three pairs of shoes, and an assortment of jewelry later, we came to an agreement and Joanne started working on my makeup.

"But I dun wanna wear makeup," I said, holding my mouth in an "o" shape and looking up at the ceiling. My sister gently coated my lashes with mascara, and although I trusted her I knew that one false move was going to put that brush right in my eye. I held very still.

"Oh, hush up," She fussed at me, digging through her makeup bag and brandishing a variety of products, "A little makeup won't hurt you."

I sat quietly and let her work. I was wearing an outfit of my sister's design; a short sleeved, crop-top t-shirt covered my upper body and thin bangles jingled quietly on my wrists when I moved. The shorts I wore belonged to Joann- they were too short for my tastes, and I played idly with the fringing. The shoes she had presented filled me with relief at first, but soon my heart sank. Although they looked like high top sneakers, my sister revealed that they contained wedges in the design. "They're called sneaker-heels!" She'd explained excitedly. I wondered what devilish mind had come up with such a thing. Joann even insisted that I change my bra, and now the black halter top brassiere showed in the scoop neckline of the t-shirt.

"So," Joann interrupted my lamentations, "Is that guy gonna be there?"

It took me a second to catch up with my thoughts, and even then I didn't know how to respond. Fear struck me- fear that my sister, and then my family, would find out about the lies I'd been telling- so I didn't say anything.

"I saw him get off the bus with you the other day," Joann shrugged, casually glancing at me as she worked. A smug smile crossed her face. "What, is he like, your secret boyfriend or something?"

I loosed a smile onto my face in place of utter fear. Joann would keep it secret if I asked her to, and she would know nothing more about Warren than what I told her.

"No, he's not my boyfriend," I groaned out with a smile, and Joann giggled at my tone of voice. "But yeah, he's coming to the cast party."

"Good, that's good," She said, and held out a handful of lip glosses for me to choose from. "Pick one." I pulled a pomegranate color from her palm, and she set about applying it.

"You like him, don't you?" She stated more than asked, and I nodded slightly. I felt my face flush with redness- it was the first time I'd admitted that I liked Warren. My sister nodded thoughtfully before a pensive smile slid onto her face.

"Look, Nora- you don't have to tell me everything," she said quietly, taking a hot flat iron to my already-straight hair (another thing I had protested). "I just want you to be happy. God knows you deserve it, after last year!"

My heart swelled with emotions I couldn't quite recognize. For the first time in a long time, I felt that I could face the hard things in my past and understand them enough to learn from them. I was beginning to feel as if the incident of last year- losing control of my powers in a game of Save the Citizen, then coming close to levelling the gym- wasn't as defining as it had been before, and that it was more of an unpleasant dream than it was a bad memory. My new identity as a sidekick was part of this emotional evolution, but somehow I felt that Warren had more to do with my new sense of self than I gave him credit for.

"Yeah, you're right," I agreed with my sister, sitting up straight with renewed esteem, "I do."

Later that night I was heading out. Steven lived close to me, and I'd decided to walk instead of drive. I could use the time to think. I stepped outside into the dimming daylight and the cold nipped at my body. I was too busy wondering if Warren would show at the cast party or not that I'd forgotten a jacket. I was lucky that the walk to Steven's wasn't that long.

No sooner had I stepped out of the driveway than a voice called to me from the house.

"Nora!" Joann hollered for me from the front door, running out to the sidewalk to meet me. "You left your bag!"

She held the purse clutched in her fist as she approached me. Our mom peeked her head through the doorway at all the noise, but soon retreated back inside when she saw there was no emergency. Joann handed me the bag with a strange look in her eye.

"Thanks, I can't believe I forgot it-" I started, slipping the purse over my shoulder. I felt a heaviness in the bag that was unwarranted, and curiously opened the zipper. I deadpanned at my older sister upon seeing the contents of my purse.

"Joann, what is this?" I asked in a hushed voice, gesturing to the bottle of liquor sitting inconspicuously in the bag. "Is this vodka? I can't take this with me-"

"Go," Joann prompted me, closing the purse with a definitive snap, and prodding me along my way. "Loosen up- _have fun_ ," She insisted with a smile.

I scoffed at her but smiled back anyways, and after a moment of thought, kissed her cheek. She retreated back into the house as my mom looked out the window, waving at me. I waved feebly back and felt only slightly guilty that she would never know I was bringing booze to the party.

I accepted my sister's gift and quickly went on my way.

…..

Actors clamored around the basement, mingling and excitedly discussing the successful play. A table set up against one wall bore snacks and a punch bowl (with which my bottle of liquor had already become fully acquainted), and on a nearby sofa some members of the club were piled upon one another, watching past performances. A heated board game was taking place in the corner, and a few students sat on high stools at the basement bar. Steven had cleared a space on the hardwood floor for dancing that was going mainly unused.

Steven's basement was relatively large- it was his stepdad's "mancave", he'd explained to me- although the crowd of teenagers made it seem smaller than it really was. The lights were off, but a box on the dance floor played a light show across the room and the glare from the TV cast a surreal haze. There was a fog machine next to the sound system, working overtime to fill the room with smoke.

I was standing with a group of girls from the club. We chatted idly as we stood against the wall, but my heart wasn't in it- I couldn't keep myself from anticipating Warren's arrival, and found my eyes glancing toward the door when a newcomer came. The music was enjoyable, but not quite fit for a party (Broadway musical soundtracks were only good to dance to if you knew the choreography, which I did not).

I side-stepped and moved a little as I talked, and soon I realized that there was no one on the dance floor.

"Why isn't anybody dancing?" I interjected into the conversation suddenly, gesturing to the empty space. The girl next to me shrugged, and her straight bangs fell over her eye.

"I guess nobody wants to," She offered, and the girls in the group shook their heads 'no' without conviction. Katie, the one with the bangs, crossed her arms insecurely over her chest.

"Well, someone has to start it," I grinned, propositioning the group, "Let's go!"

I was appalled when the group opposed in a low mumble.

"I don't want to dance," Another girl spoke up, her doe eyes full of apprehension. I looked around the group to find similar looks.

"What? Why not?" I asked in disbelief, and they all shifted nervously and offered lame excuses.

"Well, it's one thing to _act_ , but…" Katie started cautiously, casting a wary look at the foggy dance floor. "Nora, I don't know _how_ to dance."

"People will look at me."

"I'm too clumsy."

The group pitched in alongside Katie's explanation, and I exaggerated a sigh. I had my work cut out for me.

"You're gonna learn today," I teased them good naturedly, "And if you really don't like it, you don't have to dance. Let's give it a shot first."

I handed my cup of spiked punch to Katie. "Here, take a swig of this," I commanded.

"Why?" She asked confusedly as I dragged the girls out onto the floor. I attached my phone to the sound system with the aux cord, and picked a playlist I knew would get the room of teens to dance. I gave her a knowing look as the beat rang through the speakers.

"It'll help," I said, " _Trust me."_

… **. (3** **rd** **Person POV)….**

Warren Peace stood leaning against the wall on one side of the basement. He'd arrived at the party not long ago, and was surprised to find himself genuinely pleased at the excited greetings directed his way when he entered the room. Truth be told, he'd felt nervous about the cast party- as if he didn't really belong there. But the warm smiles and friendly faces quelled his anxiety, and he wondered when he'd become so antisocial.

His back was flush with the plaster wall, and the driving beat of the music reverberated through his chest and into his body. Warren liked music, and the playlist on wasn't half bad, but the tunes in the background weren't nearly as preoccupying as the girl dancing across the room.

Nora's features were barely discernable in between flashes from the strobe. Her long, straight hair fell in her face when her body moved. Her hands tangled in her hair, her hips dipped in fluid movements, and her steps were in unison with the beat. Suddenly, as if on cue, her body rolled from bottom to top and sent her hair flying out of her face. A smile- almost inhuman- flashed on her face for just a second, and then her features returned to normal. A wide-spread grin stretched over her features as she addressed the girl next to her, and Warren saw her face fold into a laugh although he couldn't hear it from the other side of the room. Nora was giddy with excitement and enjoying herself entirely. Try as he might, Warren couldn't wrench his eyes from her winding form… But, then again, he hadn't tried very hard.

"Hey, Warren!"

The pyrokinetic peeled his gaze from Nora's alluring movements toward the source of the sound. A short head of curly hair bobbed through the crowd, and approached him with two punch glasses.

"I'm glad you came!" Steven addressed Warren over the din of the music, handing him the drink. Warren smiled at him, and his teeth seemed unusually white in the dark room.

"Thanks!" He responded, eyes flashing accidentally back to the dance floor and seeking Nora out, "Me too."

Steven's eyes followed suit as he stood next to Warren against the wall. The younger boy observed with both his eyes and his powers- he was an empath, after all. Among other, more carnal emotions emanating through the room, the signature radiating from Warren was strong and pulsing. Steven tapped into his powers and found his friends aura; _longing, excitement, adoration._

"She's really something, huh?" Steven stated more than asked as they both watched Nora. She was by far the most impressive one dancing, the life of the dance floor. One side of Warren's mouth turned upward in affirmation as he took the first sip from his beverage and began to choke. Steven regarded him coolly from the corner of his eye and drank from his own cup.

"Who," Warren coughed and righted himself, "Who made the punch?!" He asked over the loud music. His eyes watered as he coughed again. Steven was enjoying himself too much.

"Nora," Steven said matter-of-factly, and again they both stared at the girl from across the room. Warren straightened himself up, clearing his throat one final time.

"Sounds about right," Warren said, voice returning to normal after the sudden encounter with the liquor.

Warren stood next to Steven, quietly regarding the girl, and drank some more punch. He watched the look of genuine pleasure spread across Nora's face and realized with awe that it was probably the first time he'd seen her let her guard down and have fun. A desire rose in him, pulling him towards the dance floor. A craving to move next to her, with her, to the rhythm of the music. Nora was in her element, that was for sure- Warren wanted to see if he could belong there, with her, too.

Just as suddenly as the feeling mounted in him, it was quelled by apprehension. Steven felt the wave of unease roll off his friend, the fear of taking a wrong step and railroading their relationship.

"Hey, you're an empath," Warren suddenly asked over the noise, gesturing to Nora, "What do you feel comin' off her right now?"

Steven only needed to observe sweet, kind Nora for a moment. Her emotional signature was warm to him and recognizable. But the aura rolling off of her was just as constant as it had been since the day he'd met her- fierce, brutal, and animalistic in its complexity. He'd elected not to mention it, but he'd always wondered about Nora's true nature. He disregarded it now, instead turning back to Warren.

"I think she wants someone to come dance with her!" Steven reported over the party, looking at Warren from the corner of his eye.

Warren's emotions heaved, trapped between indecision and spontaneity, before Steven finally felt them settle on the latter. With one movement, Warren downed the rest of his spiked punch and fought the burning sensation moving its way down his throat. He steadied himself from the rush and his eyes once again sought Nora out across the room.

Steven beamed at his friend as he took the empty cup. Warren wove in between the crowd of teens, taking determined strides towards the dance floor.

"Good luck!" Steven called out to Warren, not expecting to be heard. The pyrokinetic turned his head to look over his shoulder and flashed a grin at the empath, turned, and disappeared into the crowd.

…

 **Just a thank you to those people who left reviews. It's such a pleasure to write something that other people enjoy, and your reviews lift me up beyond measure. Thanks for putting up with me, haha. Keep reading and enjoy!**


	13. Ch 13- No Party Like a Cast Party, Pt2

**That previous warning label applies to this chapter to- mature themes, nothing vulgar. Enjoy!~~~ ; )**

… **(Back to Nora POV) …**

The girls around me had finally loosened up and seemed to be genuinely enjoying themselves. They smiled and wiggled and moved awkwardly, their bodies making jerking motions instead of fluid ones, but nobody cared. They were having fun and that's what counted.

As for me, I loved to dance. I treasured the flash of strobe lights across moving bodies, the smell of faux smoke emanating through the machine, the deafening music. Typically, such a sensory overload would send me screaming for the hills. But as long as the room was dark enough and the music was loud enough (and the liquor was strong enough), it overwhelmed my senses to the point where I couldn't focus on anything but dancing- a small mercy in a life normally governed by heightened senses.

That state of ignorance was what I surrendered myself to; the beat pounded through the speakers and into my body; my hips rolled side-to-side in fluid waves; my shoulders dipped in unison. Each step renewed the feeling of freedom and enjoyment, and I danced avidly and without stop.

And so, I'd been too preoccupied to notice who had arrived at the party. Had I not been distracted, I would've seen him weave his way through the crowd and onto the dance floor to approach me.

As it was, all I felt was a body behind mine, moving in unison as hands gripped my hips. I knew immediately who it was and my body responded of its own accord- my hands reached up and back, tangling themselves in the long hair I'd come to adore as he bent down over me. I pressed my body to his out of instinct and relished in the feeling of digging myself into his hips. They rolled in harmony with mine, and it pleased me to know there was another person on the floor who could pace himself with me. One of his large hands loosed their hold on my hips, trailing slowly up my waist and following along the arm to my hand, gripping it sweetly. I noticed idly, as the warm flesh of his hand cradled mine, that he wasn't wearing gloves today. He buried his face in my hair, nuzzling my ear, and I felt his breath on my neck. I'd never seen this side of Warren Peace before.

The song ended. I spun myself around using our bound hands, and caught the first glimpse of him. Warren was wearing a plain white t-shirt that scooped just enough to show the divet in his collarbone. His skin seemed darker than normal in contrast to the striking white fabric. He was wearing black jeans and had subbed out his combat boots for ankle-high leather boots instead. His skin glistened slightly with sweat, and as I turned his eyes traveled up and down my body, taking me in (I silently thanked my sister). His face was flushed as I looked into it, and he smiled his stunning smile at me.

"Hi," He said over the noises of the party. A new song was just beginning to play when I grinned back up at him.

"Hey!" I had to shout over the music, "I didn't see you come in!" Our bodies moved again when the music started, and we looked at each other as we talked.

"Yeah, just got here!" Warren responded, smiling at me. His teeth were even more brilliant in the darkened room. "Great party!"

"Yep," I agreed, smirking at him mischievously as I took his hand again, "You should try the punch!"

I twirled, using his hand as a turning point. I faced him once again and kept tight my hold on him. I pulled on his hand forcefully, drawing our bodies closer together and taking him by surprise. He looked down at me with an amused expression.

"I did!" Warren scoffed, raising his eyebrows in response to my movements. "But I think it's missing something."

"Like what?" I looked up at him with a confused expression. He leaned down to talk into my ear over the music and I craned my neck to catch his hot breath.

"Like _punch,_ " Warren's amused voice spoke into my ear. My body tingled when he slipped a hand behind the small of my back and I giggled at him as he held our bodies close together.

We stayed that way for a long time, talking as we danced around each other. As time wore on the students congregated on the dance floor and it became more crowded. Bodies bumped against one another, people laughed, drinks slopped out of solo cups. My inhibitions lowered slightly, a combined effect of the party atmosphere, the spiked punch, and Warren's presence, but I was comfortable. Warren's feet stepped at just the right times and his body mirrored my own, rolling his hips to match the beat perfectly. I was having too much fun to notice that my eyes- my _other_ eyes- flashed colors in the pulsing lights as I became more relaxed.

But I was happy, happier than I'd been in a long time. The room melted into colors and shapes- only Warren remained in focus. As the object of my immediate, party-induced affection, he regarded me with a simple smile, and I knew I could attribute most of my newfound contentment to him.

A new song came on, one of my favorites (it _was_ my playlist, after all) and Warren's eyes lit up, too. The crowd danced with renewed vigor, pushing us into one another.

"This is good music!" He said in a satisfied voice. I smiled at him.

"Don't sound so surprised! This is my playlist," I shouted playfully back, "Mostly I think anything from the Fast and Furioussoundtrack is gold!"

He looked at me with a surprised expression.

"You like those movies?" Warren hollered over the Latin-based beat. I nodded in agreement.

"Love 'em!" I rolled my body out- Warren liked it, "Love cars!"

Warren came close to me for a moment, and my breath hitched in my throat. He bent his head down to my ear and grabbed my hand.

"Come on!" He commanded, "I have something to show you!"

Warren didn't wait for an answer, and tugged me through the crowd. We exited the room through a side door in the basement, the loud noises receding into the darkness, and I followed him around the patch of side-lawn to the front of the house. The outdoor environment was striking compared to Steven's basement, but the adrenaline rushed through me as though I'd still been dancing. Crickets chirped loudly in the brush, and somewhere far off a dog barked.

I was just about to ask him what he meant, when my eyes fell upon a dark muscle car parked along the curb.

"That's my car," He said, observing it proudly from the sidewalk where we were standing. I looked at Warren in surprise and astonishment.

"That's not a car, that's a _tank,_ " I laughed out, "It's huge! Did you drive that here?" I asked, approaching the car with excitement. He nodded.

"I did," He said in a pleased voice, "It was my dad's."

I stalked around the car, taking in the grill and stocky frame. It was classic American muscle, all right, and I let out a low whistle.

"What year is it, a '68?" I inquired.

"It's a '69," He replied, following me with his eyes as I peered into the bed of the car. The wood slats were worn from years of use, and I was pretty sure the wooden bed wasn't original, but it looked good, anyways. Warren unlatched the hood with a click as I approached the front of the long car.

"Is it badged?" I asked, pointing to the small plate in the middle of the grill that read "SS" for "SuperSport." While it was common for a Chevy to be labeled with the SS, I'd never seen an El Camino SS before, and wondered if the plate on the front was fake. Warren shook his head.

"It's the real deal," He conceded and hauled the hood up with a grunt. I helped hold it as he propped it up, and was delighted when I saw him glance at the patch of exposed skin between the bottom of my cropped shirt and pants line. We looked at the engine and I shook my head with a smile.

"Your dad had good taste," I said, and he looked at me from the side of his eye. I suddenly worried that I had crossed a line- we'd never spoken of his father before. Before he could give me any indication either way I spoke again.

"So, uh, what size engine?" I changed the subject, and Warren's gaze fell upon the mechanical workings under the hood. He went on to tell me enthusiastically about the engine block, about the rolling motor his father had put in, and about the rebuilt carburetor. I was a car chick, sure- but I was really only familiar with body styles and not the things Warren was talking about now. I listened half-heartedly as he talked, distracted by the thickness of his lashes and the angle of his cheekbones. I greedily took in his arms, lean and dark, and desired desperately to reach out and trace the flames licking up his wrists. I relished in the bareness of his hands, without the iconic fingerless gloves, as he gestured to different parts of the engine.

"What about the interior?" I asked, bringing myself back to the conversation, "Is it original?"

"All except the radio," Warren said, unpropping the hood and letting it down gently. He slid in the driver's side door as I entered via the other. His body was relaxed, right arm resting on the back of the single bucket seat and the other loosely holding the wheel. I scooted inside, and thought how it was evident he'd spent a lot of time and effort on this car. I admired that.

I tore my eyes away from him to observe the black leather interior. Almost everything inside the car was stock from 1969, except the radio. That was newer, and it was painfully modern in contrast against the rest of the dash. I had my knees tucked under me on the seat, and I raised myself up to the roof to look at a hole in the headliner. I squinted at it in the dark.

"Is that a cigarette burn?" I mumbled, and Warren let out a snicker.

"No," He said, leaning his head back to rest on the arm that was splayed across the back of the seat. He looked up at me, "You don't get to be a pyrokinetic and keep all the nice things in life."

I laughed, and sat back down dojo-style on top of my legs.

"Sorry I asked," I mumbled with a grin, opening the sliding panel in the back window and poking my head out nosily. "Say, I meant to ask- that wood's not stock, is it?"

I turned expectantly to Warren. His eyes glinted sharply in the dim light, and straight hair framed his square face. His lips, round and full, softened his angular jawline. I stared at his beautiful mouth for too long.

He didn't respond, and my question hung unanswered in the cool air. The nighttime was silent. He looked into my eyes musingly, gaze flickering over my face and taking in my features for what felt like minutes. It was excruciating.

Then, all at once, we were both suddenly aware of our close proximity. We fell upon each other in the same instant.

My mouth closed around his in bliss. My hands found their way to either side of his neck, and I cradled his face with one and tangled the other in his hair. His left hand moved from the steering wheel to grip my right shoulder blade firmly, pulling me in towards him forcefully, and I felt his mouth swell against mine.

I hummed into his mouth as his right hand dropped from the rim of the seat and ran over my back. His large hand grasped desperately, digging his fingers into my skin through my shirt. His mouth opened as his head turned, and I crooked mine the opposite way. On his succulent lips I could detect faint traces of vodka as they massaged hastily at mine, and I fought him for dominance.

I raised myself up off my knees, but Warren's mouth never left mine. I elevated myself inches above him, brushing his hair away from his face. His strong arms grasped me around my waist, squeezing the breath out of me, and he moved me needily closer to him and I gasped. His hands immediately found their way back around me. One of my hands cupped his face, and I let it trail down from his neck to his chest. I felt the smallest bit of collarbone and chest muscle peek out from under the neckline of his shirt, and my fingers ran in tight circles, caressing it greedily. Warren groaned into my mouth, and it excited me- I bit his lip, but much too hard.

He pulled away in pain with a throaty breath, and I realized with urgency I hadn't been breathing. I was half on top of him, arms resting around his muscled neck, and I sat back breathless. Although I was temporarily fatigued, every inch of me felt sensitive and restless- I was _wired._

"Sorry," I panted out, looking up apologetically into his face. I cursed my animalistic nature with renewed passion. Warren's face was flushed, as I'm sure mine was, too. His hair was mussed from running my hands through it, and his mouth still hung open as he breathed heavily. He'd since released me, but his right arm still wound around me and his left hand gripped the wheel to the point of white knuckles.

We sat and looked at each other for what seemed like ages. I was overheated to the brink of discomfort, and finally understood the heat signature was radiating from Warren. I realized we were alike in that way- we both struggled to control our powers when we got… excited.

Warren's body became less tense and his breathing evened out. I felt like I'd never get mine under control, but when I finally did, the reality of our make-out sunk in. I put both hands on Warren's chest, and his hands slid around my waist in response, but I pushed myself away from him. I looked into his face, but scrunched my eyes closed as I saw traces of confusion and hurt.

I closed my eyes, in disbelief at what had just happened. I opened them again with an odd look on my face.

"The wood," I said. Warren looked at me blankly, and confusion slid into the eyes that were inches from my own.

"What?" He asked.

"The wood truck bed," I asked again, smiling sheepishly at him as I slid off his lap. "Is it original?"

Warren looked at me for a moment longer, and then finally comprehended my question. He laughed quietly, and a soft smile lingered on his lips as we righted ourselves in the car. I smoothed my hair out and adjusted my now-crooked shirt. He followed suit, looking at me from across the small space. I was sitting opposite him in the car now, but it still wasn't far enough away to escape his piercing gaze.

"No, it's not original."

"I knew it," I said as we closed the doors to the El Camino one after the other. I was anxious about having torn myself from him so abruptly. We awkwardly walked back to the party, and I chanced a look at Warren from the side of my eye. His face was neutral, his expression pensive. I was nervous until I saw a faint smile turn up the corner of his mouth. He caught my eye as we walked silently across the grass, and I blushed. I mentally lamented my social clumsiness as we entered the basement and split up.

I spent the rest of the night mingling with the friends I had neglected. Still, although I was enjoying myself with them, I looked around the room for Warren. We made eye contact, and it startled me to know that he was looking for me, too. Embarrassed, I did my best to tear my gaze away from him and failed miserably. He grinned, mostly to himself, when he thought I couldn't see.

The night wore on. I stood outside, talking with Steven and a group of friends, and shivered in the cool air. I held my arms close to my body, cursing myself for forgetting a jacket. I looked up at the clear sky- from the position of the moon, I could tell it was late. I knew it'd be time to get home soon.

A tall form filled the basement doorway before exiting the party. Warren strode over to stand next to me in the chatting group, and I smiled up at him. He was met by a series of acknowledgements before Steven stepped closer to him in the dim light.

"Warren, what's- you cut your lip," Steven said, pointing to a dark patch on Warren's lower lip. His hand flew up to it immediately, rubbing off the small patch of blood, and I stood next to him beet red. If the rest of the group hadn't been there, I would've collapsed on the ground in embarrassment.

 _That's the way to do it,_ I thought, _Nothing like a little maiming to let a guy know you care about him…_

Warren took the collar of his shirt and dabbed at his lip, dark eyes looking down at me from under thick lashes.

"Yeah, I bit my lip," He explained, and only I could detect the comic note on his voice, "Eating a chip."

The group laughed at the anecdote, and I gave him an amused look out of the corner of my eye. The conversation carried on to other things as I sidled up close to Warren's warmth, glad he'd joined us outside. Although he was wearing his leather jacket now, the heat signature I'd come to depend on still radiated from him. He unconsciously slipped an arm over me, rubbing my shoulder as he spoke to the boy next to him. I was taken by surprise at first, but then gratefully accepted the heat (and affection). Steven caught my eye from across the group, raised his eyebrows and winked at me. I laughed.

They say the mark of a good houseguest is to know when to leave, and as a few guests bid our host goodnight, I followed suit. I slid Warren's arm off me with a smile, and addressed Steven.

"Steve, I'm gonna head out," I told him, reaching out to grasp his hand in mine. "You did a wonderful job on the play," I smiled, pulling him into a hug, "I'm proud of you."

He tucked his chin into the crook of my neck (he was half a head shorter than me) and I felt his face turn upwards in a smile. I let him go. I said goodbye to the rest of the group before turning back to Warren. We stood off a bit from the group to talk.

"You're leaving?" He asked, disappointment in his voice. I was pleased at that, although I shouldn't have been. I nodded.

"Yeah, I'm just gonna go in and grab my bag," I explained lamely, and wondered why I was gushing. He nodded, and I looked at him awkwardly. Would he kiss me again? Were we going to hug? Maybe a handshake would be more appropriate?

"Did you drive here?" He asked suddenly, and the question caught me off guard.

"Well, no, I walked," I explained, realizing then that the walk home would be cold and frigid. Warren's brow came together as he looked down at me, and then at what I was wearing.

"You can't walk home like that, you'll freeze!" He protested, holding me at arm's length. He interrupted me as I started to disagree. "I'll drive you home."

I looked at him in disbelief for the second time that night.

"You don't have to," I said, but Warren only waved my protestations away.

"I want to," He assured me, shoving his hands in his pockets and smiling his toothless smile at me. A dimple appeared in his rosy cheeks. "Now, go get your stuff."

I didn't wait for him to change his mind and hastily found my bag inside. I said my goodbyes and received a fair number of hugs and even kisses from my fellow club-mates (the punch will do that to you). I hustled outside to find Warren still standing where I left him, and he peeled off from the group to walk with me.

"Thanks for driving me home," I said as I approached the passenger side door. Warren followed me instead of going around to the driver's side, and he shook his leather jacket off.

"Here," He said, holding out the jacket for me to put my arms in. I stood surprised. "The heat doesn't work in this old thing," He explained, and I slipped the coat on.

It was toasty, like clothes that have just been pulled out of the dryer. The sleeves stopped short around my fingertips, but the length was about right for me. Still, it was much too big around and I wrapped myself up in it gratefully. The smell of the jacket permeated my olfactory senses- leather and engine grease. I smiled quietly to myself.

"Thanks," Was all I could think to say, and I slid in the passenger side door.

He got in the driver's seat, and his keys jingled quaintly when he took them out of his pocket. He slid them into the ignition, and the engine roared to life as only a true muscle car could.

"Sure," He said, turning towards the middle seat. The whole scene was familiar- he on one side, me on the other. He reached his right arm back over the seat, and my heart stopped- for a moment I thought he'd kiss me again.

Instead, he slid the panel in the rear window closed, the one I'd opened earlier.

I wrapped my arms around myself. My teeth still chattered from the aftershock of standing in the cold night air for upwards of an hour, and in scanty clothing. The liquor had done a good job of keeping me warm until now. I tucked my hands into my arm pits, and from across the car Warren looked at me blankly.

"Well, don't suffer," he interjected himself into my lamentations, an embarrassed look on his face. He put the car in drive and held his hand out to me, avoiding my eyes. "Get over here."

Without delay I scooted from the passenger side into the middle, pressing myself to him and humming contentedly at the heat. His right arm wrapped around my shoulders in a familiar action, and he eased out onto the road. The adrenaline from the party drained out of me, leaving overexerted senses and tiredness in its wake. I could barely keep my head aloft and I opted instead to rest it on Warren's broad shoulder. I felt his chest swell with each breath, and was quiet as I watched his free hand deftly handle the car. Suddenly, I looked up at him.

"A _chip_? Really?" I deadpanned at him, and he laughed at me. "You bit your lip eating a _chip_?" I stated exasperatedly. His eyes folded at the corners and sparkled- that's how I knew his laugh was genuine. I couldn't help myself, and soon I was giggling too. "Quit laughing," I snickered out, "You're not that funny."

He threw his head back for just a second. His neck was sinewy and smooth, and I wanted to kiss it. Warren turned an amused gaze to me.

"What can I say?" He cavorted impishly, "You're a _snack._ "

Then it was my turn to laugh.

We arrived home sooner than I wanted to, although Warren had gone ten under the speed limit the whole way. He pulled up at the curb opposite my house, where no lights were on. I knew no one was waiting up for me. My parents trusted me to get home safely because they knew what I was capable of, having had to bear witness to my powers countless times before.

I lingered in the car with Warren as long as I could, talking with him. I was practically in his lap, one of my legs crossed over his right knee, but he didn't seem to care. He'd put the car in park, and his free hand now rested on my bare thigh idly. We'd stopped talking for a moment, but a moment was all it took. I was comfortably nestled against Warren, and felt fuzzy on the inside. I was falling asleep when he jostled me gently.

"Hey, Nora," He spoke quietly into my ear, and I roused myself up, "You falling asleep? Come on, let's get you inside." I nodded and he opened the door.

He softly detached his body from mine, getting out of the driver side door. He held my hand and helped me out the same way. The cold air seeped into my body anew, just when I'd gotten warm again, and I pulled Warren's jacket closer around me. We walked together across the street and up to my porch.

"Thanks for driving me home," I yawned out, looking up at him in the dim light. A cloud passed over the moon, clothing everything in shadow.

"Don't mention it," He said, and I could hear the smile in his voice. I started to shed his jacket, unwillingly peeling the warmth from my body. His hands found their way to the collar in the dark, and he pulled it back onto my cold form.

"Why don't you hold onto it for a while?" Warren stated more than asked, and I saw his teeth glisten in the dark. "It looks better on you, anyways."

I blushed and was silently grateful it was too dark for him to see.

He started to leave, but I grabbed him before he got too far. I looked up at him abashedly in the dark. I wanted to tell him things- a lot of things- but the words wouldn't come to the surface of my mind.

"Warren," I said his name hoarsely, and cleared my throat. "S-sorry I bit you."

Before he could answer, I took a chance and leaned up on my tip toes. I had never been more grateful for my animal senses than in that moment, when I used my other eyes to see in the dark and aim my mouth towards the cut on his lip. I kissed the mark lightly, carefully, my lips barely brushing his lower one where I'd done damage. I tasted blood for seconds after my mouth left his. I leaned away from him.

"Good night," I squeaked, letting myself in the house and shutting the door before I could wait for his reaction. I leaned against it and waited for him to walk back to his car. I heard it start up, and he pulled away, the lights turning away at the end of the drive.

I walked up to my room in a daze. I turned the covers down and hastily changed into pajamas, and told myself I'd take my make up off first thing in the morning. I curled under the covers, shivering only slightly, and was about to drift off into sleep when I roused myself from slumber one last time. I retrieved Warren's leather jacket from the back of the chair I had flung it on, and returned to bed. I curled up with it, breathing in his scent and remembering how it felt to be sidled up next to him, in his car, with his arm around me. Recalling the taste of his lips, the swing of his hips while we danced…

I was asleep seconds later.

… **. (Warren POV) …**

There was no way I was getting any sleep that night.

I tossed and turned in my bed, all the covers flung off onto the floor. I had generated heat purposefully while Nora and I were driving, but now my body wouldn't stop putting off the low warmth. I knew she wasn't there with me anymore, but still… I felt like she should've been.

I threw an arm over my eyes in frustration, and the wind picked up outside. The events of the night flashed through my mind in a wonderful, fuzzy haze. Nora was an alluring dancer, and I was glad I'd worked up the courage to meet her on the floor. I basked in the memory of her body on mine- swaying, moving, grinding- and then thought of us in my car.

I flushed, alone in the darkness of my room. I was overcome with the aftermath shock that I'd done such a thing, that I'd presumed so much as to _make out_ with her. But even more so, I was shocked that she'd been receptive and willing. I thought about her lean body on top of mine, her hands in my hair, her fingers massaging my chest- and then she had bit me.

While I enjoyed it more than I should have, she didn't need to be so rough. But that wasn't what was preoccupying my mind. "Sorry!" she'd apologized, and I had looked into her flustered face. I forgot about my discomfort when I'd noticed her eyes- dark, wide, and not their normal color. They'd flashed purple and orange and gold, opalescent in the darkness, before she squeezed them shut. She opened them again, and they were the same mossy green I'd come to know.

As I laid in bed, listening to the whistle of wind in the trees, I realized it was not the first time I had seen it happen. Even on the dance floor tonight, as the strobe flashed across her face I'd detected hints of unusual colors in her eyes but attributed it to the light show (and the vodka). And then before, in gym, when Nora had come barreling to save me from the crashing of a brick wall…

 _Her eyes changed color then, too…_ I thought, sitting up straight. I had always known there was more to Nora than met the eye, but I couldn't help but wonder how deep it went.

I ran a hand through my hair and rubbed my eyes. I looked out the window and cursed when I saw the smallest sliver of light peek out from behind the tree line. Falling back onto the bed, I looked up at the ceiling pensively. My hand reached up to my lip, touching it softly where Nora had left her mark on me, and I grinned to myself.

 _Whatever more there is to Nora Stone, she's worth it…_ I thought to myself, following a wolf like pair of changing eyes into my dreams.

… **.**

 **I really enjoyed writing this chapter. I mean I REALLY enjoyed it! Hope you guys liked it, and didn't mind all the car lingo. I was trying to make it authentic. ; ) Leave me a review and let me know what you think! Thanks for reading.**


	14. Chapter 14- Girl All the Bad Guys Want

Being back at school was surprisingly normal. Warren and I had passed a major milestone, and it didn't seem to have changed our relationship in any way. Except that, maybe, we were more comfortable with each other. As if it was even possible, Warren was easier to talk to and to pass time with. After getting through a potentially embarrassing situation with finesse, we came out on the other side a little closer than before- and I wasn't complaining.

Most days at school found Warren and I hanging around each other. We sat together in what few common classes we had (there was a big difference between the hero and sidekick curriculum), and after school we practiced together for the upcoming stc tournament. At lunch, we sometimes sat together with Will and Layla, or with Steven and a handful of others from the now dissipated drama club- but Warren and I always sat together.

We were sitting at an indoor lunch table with the club. It'd been raining recently, a sure sign that fall was here, so sitting outside wasn't an option. The club clustered close together at a table in the middle of the room, and while I normally hated sitting in the center of the lunchroom, I felt more at ease in a large group of people.

And that's _exactly_ what we had. The cluster of students shouted over one another, jostling elbows and knees, excitedly discussing varying topics but always returning to a single one in great detail- homecoming.

I sat quietly next to Warren on the outskirts of the group, listening to the conversation. Some students argued over whether or not institutionalized dances were just another way of "keeping the generation down", and some bantered about the dress code ("Why shouldn't I be allowed to wear sneakers?"). I gazed out the window at the gray, rainy skies, and was roused by a soft nudge in my ribs.

I glanced to my left, at Warren. Silently, he nodded in Steven's direction, moving his eyebrows as if to say, _"Look over there."_ I followed his gaze to my right, where Steven was quietly resting his chin on the palm of his hand, staring at something across the lunchroom. I traced the path of his eyes across the room to who he was staring dreamily at.

"She's hot," I said in Steven's ear, and he jumped. I grinned at him impishly as he straightened himself, blushing red.

"W-who? I wasn't…" Steven started, embarrassed, looking down at his lunch tray. I bumped him with my knee.

"C'mon, man. That girl you were just staring at!" I teased him, but not loud enough to bring it to the attention of the table. Steven was shy, especially about his romantic interests, and I tried to honor that.

"Do you know her?" Warren questioned neutrally, leaning close to me to talk to Steven. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on edge when his breath brushed by.

"No," Steven gave in to our prodding, slouching defeatedly over his food. "Well, I mean- I know _who_ sheis, and we have some classes together. But she's only talked to me, like, twice."

I nodded, understanding my friend a little more. "Well, tell me about her," I implored Steven, and that was all it took to get the floodgates open.

The raven-haired beauty sitting at the table across the way was named Lorelai, and she was one grade above us. She played in a band with the others at her table and her particular talent was bass (Steven had heard her practicing for the talent show one day after school, and thought that she was pretty good). She had pictures of her favorite artists in her locker, mostly metal and punk bands, and her favorite color was purple.

I grinned as Steven explained this girl's personality to me in great detail- I had never seen this side of him before. Mostly, I was flattered that he chose to confide in me about his crush. I observed Lorelai as Steven spoke. She was, indeed, wearing her favorite color purple (as she did most days, Steven explained) and her makeup was dark compared to her pale complexion. Her black hair was spiky straight, and layered. As she got up to throw some trash away, I noted her outfit- ripped jeans with fishnets showing through the holes, tucked into studded combat boots. Undoubtedly, she belonged with the punk-rocker group she was sitting with.

"Well, why don't you talk to her?" Warren suggested, "You have classes together. Talk to her."

Steven about fell out of his seat.

"It's not that easy," Steven explained anxiously, wringing his hands, "I'm not like you, Warren- I'm not… I mean, I'm not _cool._ I get nervous and I stutter and I start talking about stupid stuff!"

I put a calming hand on Steven's arm. "Hey, you know that's not true," I comforted him, breaking the tension with a joke. "Warren says stupid stuff all the time, and I still like him!"

I immediately blushed, realizing what I'd said, and changed the conversation quickly.

"My point is, just be yourself." I told him, not turning back to Warren when he spoke up.

"Hey, why don't you ask her out or something?" Warren said, and Steven's eyes widened in disbelief.

"Yeah," I said, "Or to homecoming!"

Steven was about to protest but stopped short. I could almost hear the wheels in his mind turn, weighing his chances, creating a plan. He shook his head reservedly, but I could tell he was half convinced.

"I wouldn't know how," Steven explained, insecurity in his voice. More than ever, I wanted him to find the courage in himself to pursue his crush if he wanted to.

"Start talking to her," Warren explained, taking on a professional air, "You're an empath, right? Get an idea of what she feels for you, and if you think the time is right, ask her."

"Yeah," I nodded in agreement with Warren, "Maybe, I don't know, do something special when you ask her," I told Steven as he looked at me earnestly, "Think about what _you_ would like someone to do for you, and then do that for her."

Steven nodded, sitting back to think. I smiled at him and gave his hand a squeeze before leaving him in peace.

"I didn't know you were such a romantic," Warren teased me, and I crossed my arms comfortably over my chest.

"What can I say? I'm a soft touch when it comes to dances," I explained, and turned back to the conversation the rest of the table was having.

"It's ridiculous that I have to wear a dress," Katie was explaining to Jess from behind her dark bangs. "Everything I own is a hand-me-down. Where do you even go to buy a formal dress?"

"Beats me," Jess countered, sipping milk from a square carton, "I probably won't go, 'cause honestly I don't even know what to do with _this._ " Jess gestured to her thick hair, made of hundreds of small, tight wringlets, that she'd gathered hastily on top of her head this morning. Katie shook her head.

"I'll probably bail, too," Katie agreed. I looked at them both, disbelieving.

"Hey, wait a minute!" I objected, and they turned to me. "You're really not gonna go? Just because of some stupid wardrobe and hairstyle problems?"

The girls looked at each other apprehensively. I waved their fears aside.

"Look, those are easy fixes. It'll be fun! Just like the cast party, but with fancy dresses and in the gymnasium instead of Steven's basement," I explained, and I could tell neither girl was fully convinced yet. They offered some more excuses, but I could tell their issue stemmed from the unfamiliarity of a formal dance. They didn't need convincing, they needed guidance.

"How about this?" I told them from across the table. More girls from the club had started to join in the conversation, and I quieted them. "We'll have a workshop the day of homecoming- in the auxiliary gym," I explained, "You guys can all bring your dresses, makeup, hair stuff- whatever you want, and we'll spend a few hours before the dance getting ready together. I'll be there to help if you need it. Then, everyone can go. How's that sound?"

Murmurs of agreement went around the table, and the excited chatter started back up again. By the time our lunch period was over, several people had asked for my email to send me pictures of possible dresses to "approve" them, we'd set up a time to meet on the old stage, and I had accidentally become den mother. I walked with Warren out of the lunch room, the girls still talking about the upcoming dance, and I looked up at my companion suddenly.

"Why did you let me get myself into that?" I asked him jokingly, and Warren laughed.

"Hey, you brought that on yourself," He responded, and I followed him through the halls to his locker. He grinned down at me.

"I like to see you get involved," Warren confessed seriously as he turned the lock under a gloved hand, "Sometimes it feels like you're pretty distant."

I leaned against the locker to his left, observing the faces in the hallway and struggling with my enhanced senses, as always.

I scoffed. "I'm not _distant_ ," I retorted, and although I tried to sound playful my tone was irritated. Warren's movements stuttered for a moment as he realized he'd struck a cord, but I still didn't look at him. Although I'd argued it, I _was_ distant- I chose to be, I had to be, if I wanted to keep my past behind me and maintain the identity I'd built for myself. But nobody was supposed to know I was holding part of myself back, and it bothered me that Warren did.

"I didn't mean it like that," Warren said, shuffling through the books in his locker, "I'm just glad the girls have you to look out for them, is all. To show 'em the ropes."

Warren's tone was gentle and apologetic, as if he was sorry but didn't know what for. I figured it wasn't fair for me to be upset with him and not tell him why, so I pushed my irritation down. It wasn't his fault, after all.

"I guess you're right," I said, turning to him. I stopped short when I looked at his locker door.

"Hey, where'd you get this?!" I demanded, snatching the photograph from where it was taped to his locker. I looked up at him in surprise as I held the picture- it was of the two of us on the night of the cast party. We were smiling at each other and dancing, the flash from the camera illuminating our rosy faces. My hands gripped the photo firmly. Warren blushed lightly.

"Steven took that picture," He explained, almost defensively, "He sent it to me."

I looked back down at the picture again, overwhelmed with excitement about having a featured place in Warren's locker. Before I'd snapped it up, it nested tightly between a poster of a classic car and a calendar with dates scribbled on it. There were other photos on his locker door, but I disregarded them for the one in my hand.

"Can I borrow this?" I asked, smiling shyly up at him- Warren looked at me curiously, "I want a copy."

…

A few days passed normally. Stc practice was picking up with renewed vigor, and Coach Boomer focused practice heavily around skills and team development (and less around conditioning, thank God). The homecoming tournament was coming up soon, and the brackets were already drawn up and hanging on the wall of Coach's office. The name of the game was double elimination- so long as each team of individuals won their match, they remained in the winner's bracket. Lose, and you'd get bumped down into the loser's bracket. From there, if a team of hero and sidekick lost, they were eliminated from the tournament completely. From the way Warren and I had been practicing, I knew we wouldn't have to worry about that.

Thursday morning, Steven wasn't on the bus. He typically boarded ahead of me, but that day I sat in our usual seat by myself. It was close to the front of the bus, and I chatted idly with the bus driver. Mostly we talked about the upcoming tournament, and he let it slip that he'd bet on Warren and I in the staff betting pool. I told him we wouldn't let him down, and got off the bus feeling excited for the upcoming games.

I looked around for Warren. It was still a few minutes before the first bell rang. My heightened senses kicked in as I searched for him, my eyes cutting through the foggy air to find that familiar broad form. Instead, my eyes lighted upon a bobbing head of light, curly hair, and I realized with surprise that Steven was getting off of another bus across the way.

Confused, I watched as he stood on the sidewalk, anxiously looking around for someone, rocking back and forth on his feet. He seemed to be holding something in his hands, reciting words under his breath. Before I could call out to him and approach him, his eyes set upon whoever he was looking for and he walked determinedly across the lawn.

I watched as he approached a group of people sitting at a picnic table. I recognized the punk clique as the one that Lorelai belonged to, and sure enough, that's who Steven was gunning for. An apprehensive feeling mounted in my gut, and I made my way through the morning crowd to where my best friend was standing.

As I got closer, I could finally see Steven was holding a bouquet of flowers. Anxiously, he turned them over in his hands while he talked to the dark-haired girl. Her expression was surprised, but it seemed neutral to me.

Just as I wondered if my fears were unfounded, laughter erupted from the table. Lorelai's friends threw their heads back in hooting laughs, and they casted their mocking voices at Steven even as he turned away. Steven started off into the school just as the bell rang, and I went after him. I cast one last look at the table where Lorelai was sitting, and found that even though her friends cavorted over the incident, she was not laughing. Instead, her face was stony, and she looked into the teeming crowd as though she wanted to follow Steven. She didn't. Anger welled up in me as I ignored her and dashed after my friend.

"Steven!" I called out into the crowded hallway. I used my senses to detect a head of curly hair weaving in between people, and as I pursued him a bitter taste rose up in my throat. I followed him through the main hall, past the science locker bay, and into an empty classroom.

"Steve, wait!" I said, finally catching up with him. He was fast when he wanted to be. I leaned in the doorway, observing him anxiously. "What happened? Why did they-"

"What happened?!" Steven exclaimed, turning to me for the first time. His eyes were tear-stained and his voice was scratchy. "I followed your advice, that's what happened!" Steven shook the bouquet of flowers at me angrily. They were battered and rumpled after he'd run through the crowd of students, and as he gestured some petals floated to the floor.

"What are you talking about?" I asked, concerned at his reaction. I took a few steps closer to him. "Did you ask Lorelai to homecoming? What did she say?"

Steven laughed- a bitter, harsh, biting sound. "Oh, I asked her all right. Bought her these _stupid_ flowers, had to catch a different bus so I could get them before school, all 'cause you said I ought to make it special!" He waved angrily at me with the handful of flora, and I flinched instinctively.

"I was reading all the right things off of her, too," Steven said pensively, pacing the front of the classroom, "I thought, maybe she _liked_ me, but no. You know what she was feeling, Nora? When I asked her to homecoming?"

I stood quiet as Steven looked at me again, tears welling in his eyes. I was having a hard time keeping myself from crying as I watched him.

"She felt _embarrassed_ ," He said, and I winced visibly. "She felt pity, Nora- for _me._ "

I didn't know what to say to him to make him feel better. I doubted if there was anything I could tell him to help. Steven shook his head quietly, looking down at the tile floor.

"Why did I even listen to you?" Steven asked in a quiet, questioning voice. A distasteful look slid onto his face as he regarded me. "You ruined it. You ruin everything."

I was about to protest, but stopped short. Part of me knew I had nothing to do with the rejection that Steven had suffered, but for some reason the ghost of my old identity came back to haunt me. It was true, as my old self, I had ruined many things. It's what I did- I was a ruiner. That past identity came crashing back into the front of my mind, and I could do nothing as Steven stormed past me, dropping the beaten and battered bouquet on the ground.

I stood completely still for what felt like minutes, willing myself not to cry. I didn't know why his words had hurt me so badly, but they did. I fought down tears, lost, and rubbed the wetness angrily from my eyes. I wanted to hit something. I turned to leave the classroom and a form at the door blocked my path.

I stopped, surprised, and looked up at Warren. He looked down at me with sweet brown eyes that searched my face, taking in my tears. A compassionate expression formed on his face but it only made me angrier.

"Nora…" He started softly, reaching out to hold me. My hands flew up defensively, and I backed away quicker than I should have been able to- my senses were kicking in, as they often did when I was upset.

"Don't touch me," I ordered, turning my back on him so I wouldn't have to see the hurt expression on his face. I took a deep breath and composed myself. When I turned back around, Warren was standing with a neutral expression, leaning against the door frame, but his arms crossed defensively over his chest.

"How long have you been there?" I asked him, clearing my throat. He shrugged.

"For pretty much all of it," He admitted, "I saw you run after Steven on the lawn, and figured something was up."

I was quiet. I couldn't think of anything else to say- there wasn't anything else I _wanted_ to say. I leaned against a desk, and idly stared at the crumpled bouquet on the ground. Many feelings ran through me all at once, combining in a cacophony of colors and sounds and shapes in my mind.

An idea came to me. I pushed down the emotions, quieting them, and scooped the bouquet up in my arms. I paced to the doorway Warren still occupied, and went to push past him. He might be bigger than me, but God help him, 'cause I was stronger than him.

"Nora, wait," Warren implored me, catching hold of my arm. "He didn't mean what he said-"

"Don't worry about it," I mumbled, and waved him aside as I continued past him. I was afraid that if I stopped, and let Warren comfort me, I would start to cry again. I held the bouquet in my tightly closed fist, the thorns from the purple roses cutting into my palms deeply. That was good- the pain could help me focus.

"Where are you going?" Warren called to me, as I strode down the now-empty hallways. Lorelai was, what, a junior? She was probably in gym now. That's where I decided to try first, and I looked over my shoulder to Warren.

"To deliver some flowers," I stated, and turned my back again.

Moments later, I was in the gymnasium. The juniors were still mingling before class started, but as I scanned the auditorium I couldn't see Lorelai. I swung the locker room doors open wide, startling the few girls who were in there. Lorelai was sitting on a bench tying her tennis shoes, and I glowered at her darkly as she looked up in surprise.

"Get out, _now,"_ I snapped at the two girls fixing their makeup in the mirror. They shuffled out quickly, and I approached Lorelai angrily. She stood from her seated position and put her hands up apologetically.

"Hey, if this is about that kid this morning-" She started, but I pushed her back against the lockers harshly.

" _What the hell is wrong with you?"_ I hissed into her face. I'm sure my eyes were changing colors, but I didn't care- she needed to know what she'd done.

"W-what do you-" She stuttered lamely.

" _Don't you know a good thing when you see it?!"_ I questioned her, more frustrated than angry. "That _kid_ , he's heartbroken now, all because you and your _petty little clique_ wouldn't give him the time of day!"

"I didn't mean for it to happen that way!" Lorelai protested suddenly, standing straight again. I took half a step back. "I like Steven- really, I do!"

I narrowed my eyes at her, felt my anger begin to wear off. Still, I didn't move from my aggressive position.

"Oh, right- and that's why you let them laugh at him that way?" I retorted, anger bubbling up inside me again. She gestured with her palms up.

"I didn't mean for it to happen like that!" She made excuses, and I felt like throwing her against the lockers again. "What was I supposed to do?"

"You were supposed to stand up to your friends, dummy!" I snapped and shouted at her, "Stand up for him! Stand up for yourself! If you really like him, then why didn't you do something?!"

Lorelai opened her mouth, stuttered a few syllables, and closed it again. She stood silently. I seethed, regarding her angrily, and felt that I'd lose control if I stood there with her another moment longer. The doors suddenly opened, and Boomer walked into the locker room.

"Is there a problem here, girls?" Coach asked, but he knew already- they must've heard us shouting from outside the locker room. I never turned to look at him, and never broke my stare with Lorelai.

"Not a thing, Coach," I spat out, stepping away from her. I thrusted the flowers in her direction, jostling them roughly, and some more petals fell to the floor. She caught them clumsily.

"I was just returning something that belongs to Lorelai," I spat out. She looked down at the flowers in realization, then back up to me. I turned my back on her, ignoring the stare from my coach and then from the students in the gymnasium. I left without saying another word to anyone.

… **.**

 **In case you're wondering what's going on with the title for this chapter, there's a song called "Girl All the Bad Guys Want" by Bowling for Soup. Give it a listen- It inspired this little episode…**


	15. Chapter 15- Breaking Up is Hard to Do

All of that happened on a Friday. By the weekend, my anger had worn off and instead my emotions manifested themselves into uglier and more complex feelings. I felt despair and embarrassment for Steven in such depth, that between the two of us I wondered who the empath really was. I regretted having given him any advice, and in a way I felt I had pushed this traumatic episode onto him.

I cursed myself for being so stubborn and selfish – Steven was right. Just because something worked for me, I assumed it should work the same for others. I felt guilty that my relationship with Warren was moving along so fluidly, so naturally, and that Steven's crush on Lorelai had essentially ended in disaster.

I thought of all this as my sneakers slapped the hard pavement in rhythm. It was cloudy out, and the dark gray skies threatened rain. Not an ideal day to run outside, but I knew if I stayed in my house a moment longer, I would lose it.

Although I tried to keep each aspect of my newfound identity separate, my emotional compartmentalization skills left something to be desired. After sitting at home all Saturday in my room, quietly lamenting over Steven's and my severed friendship, my family could tell something was wrong. I made the classic excuse of, _"I'm about to start my period,"_ which was more than enough to get my father to back down – but my mother was more perceptive than I gave her credit for.

She'd knocked quietly on my bedroom door the next morning, but entered before I could respond. I was still in bed, and I pulled the comforter close around me to hide my face. She sat on the edge of my bed and patted my leg through the blanket. My irritation spiked.

"Are you sure everything is okay, honey?" She'd inquired sweetly. There was no reason for me to take my anger out on her, and I stifled it as best I could. But all I wanted was to be left alone. She asked suddenly, "Is it a boy?"

My shoulders shook abruptly in laughter. How ironic, I mused, that the boy who consistently preoccupied my mind was not my current problem? Instead, it was my best friend's words that rang in my head, and our relationship that weighed heavily on my heart. I supposed Lorelai was mostly to blame, so should I tell my mother, no, it was a girl?

"No, mom," I smiled up at her from beneath the covers. My laughter was mostly manic, but she'd taken it as a positive sign. "I'm seriously okay. Just in a funk, I guess."

And that's how we left it. I'd opted for a run outside, desperate to get out of the house and finally get some peace. The soles of my sneakers slapped the pavement, and my headphones blasted music that I knew by heart. I ran without much of a direction, and about thirty minutes in I was feeling less tense. I looked around me, though, and the heavy feeling returned in my chest.

I was just across the street from Steven's. I jogged slowly, looking towards his house. A few lights were on and the bright windows were illuminated against heather skies. I was hoping for… what, to see him? To make sure he was okay? Part of me wanted to walk straight up to the door, bang on it, demand an audience. Demand our friendship back into existence, the way it had been just a few days before. But another part of me, deep inside, reasoned that I'd lived my happy deception for long enough – and that maybe I deserved some misery.

I picked up the pace and continued down the street. I pushed my inner monologue down and focused on running. My chest tightened and my lungs were starting to feel weak from running too long (or was that because of the wave of grief that now pulsed through me?). It began to rain, lightly at first, and then the water came in heavier gusts. I headed for home feeling defeated.

… **.. POV Change, 3** **rd** **Person POV …**

Steven sat cross-legged on his bed. The blankets were crumpled and curled, pushed in a tired heap against the wall that ran flush with his bed. The magazine cutouts, posters, and photographs on that wall provided him with no joy today, and instead he sat crisscross, looking at the small TV that sat across the room on his desk.

It played a familiar movie, a black-and-white film classic, but he wasn't really watching it. The neutral colors flashed across the screen in a dull dance of motion. Outside, it was just getting dark, and the cloudy sky had turned charcoal. The rest of the earth, normally clothed in warm and vibrant hues at this time of year, turned pale under the heavy weather as if life had turned black and white, too. Everything felt colorless and undistinctive. Monochrome. Steven did, also.

He'd spent most of the day alone, in bed. That was an improvement on yesterday, when he spent the day alone and _crying_ in bed. As an empath, not only could he sense the emotions of others, but he was hypersensitive when it came to his own. A funny joke could send him reeling in laughter for hours afterwards, and a negative comment would plague his mind for weeks or months. He'd spent most of his life learning to reign in those emotions so they wouldn't govern his life, but still he struggled.

As he sat alone in his room, the feeling of dread overcame him. Sure, he was embarrassed and disappointed in his encounter with Lorelai. But he soon realized that with school looming on the Monday-morning horizon, he'd have to face that reality all over again. He groaned and grabbed up a pillow, burying his face in it. They had classes together – what would he say to her? How would she treat him? He cursed himself for ever having feelings for her in the first place.

Yet, Steven cursed himself even more for how he'd treated Nora on Friday. If he was honest with himself, his romantic failure had nothing to do with whether Nora had egged him on or not. But as he'd faced Lorelai and gotten laughed clear across the lawn by her clique, he felt anger well up in him beyond measure.

And what's the first thing they teach you as an empath? "Anger is a secondary emotion," Steven mumbled to himself, reliving the events. Nora had chased him into a classroom, and he was so preoccupied with his own feelings of despair that he failed to notice the anxiety and worry rolling off his best friend in waves. His own emotions had bubbled up and manifested themselves into the ugliest of words. Words that he knew would hurt her.

" _You ruin everything!"_

He didn't know _how_ he knew those words could cut so deep, just that they would. So, he said it, and felt an unsurmountable agony well up in Nora. In the moment he was pleased that it'd hurt her, but looking back on it he was ashamed. He'd left her standing there, drowning in feelings of misery, just as he was doing now. And he hated himself for it.

Steven knew he'd crossed a line when Warren Peace came knocking on his door – literally.

"Steven, there's a friend here to see you!" His stepdad had called the previous day, hollering up the stairway towards his son's room.

"I don't want to see her!" Steven yelled, voice cracking from where he was buried under the comforter. Nora was the last person he needed to see just then. There was a low exchange of voices in the foyer, footsteps, and a strong knock on Steven's bedroom door. He yelled again from his bed.

" _Go away, Nora!"_ The empath hollered, but a deep and firm voice responded from the opposite side of the door.

"It's Warren," The voice said.

Surprised, Steven pulled himself out of bed and rubbed the tears from his eyes. As he approached the door, he felt defensive – Steven knew Warren had been there for the "break up", as he'd been calling it in his mind. And he knew how much Warren cared for Nora.

Steven swung the door open feeling apprehensive. "What do you want?" He asked the taller boy looming in his doorway, but his voice came out tired instead of confrontational. Immediately, Steven felt the shift in Warren's emotions. The leather-clad boy didn't know whether to defend Nora to Steven, or to just flat-out _deck him._

Steven was alarmed, but not for long.

"I wanted to see if you're okay," Warren said in his flat, even voice. Steven regarded him for a quiet moment, and let him into the room.

They had talked. Steven had even cried a little, but Warren held his ground, so to speak. The empath could feel the discomfort washing over his friend, and could tell this was not the kind of thing Warren Peace usually did.

Still, by the end of their time together, Steven's mood was improved. Warren had not offered any solutions to Steven's problems, and had hardly expressed any amount of sympathy. But Warren had listened to the curly-haired boy's ramblings with patience and endurance, and that was all it really took to get Steven to feel remotely better.

Steven had walked Warren to the front door. The sun was just beginning to set, and clouds were rolling in. But before Warren left, he'd turned to his friend a final time. He was quiet for a moment as he regarded the empath coolly, and Steven could sense a complex cluster of emotions well up in his friend.

"She didn't deserve that, you know," was all Warren had said. Steven knew exactly who he was talking about, and stopped short as he realized _that_ was exactly what Warren Peace had come there to say.

"I know," Steven had replied in a quiet voice.

So there he sat the next day, wallowing in unhappiness, trying to come up with some kind of resolution to the problem he'd created for himself, when he heard a faint noise at his window.

 _Tap!_

Steven sat still, listening for the noise again.

 _Tap!_

He got up and muted the television, standing completely still and straining his hears.

 _Tap! Tap!... Tap!_

Alarmed, Steven approached the window cautiously and peered outside. His eyes fell upon the source of the noise and he let out a breath he didn't know he'd been holding. He yanked the window open with effort.

"What the hell-"

Suddenly, the clashing of drums and electric guitar erupted from the boombox on Lorelai's shoulder, making Steven jump. It was dark outside and drizzling, but the teen girl stood on the lawn under his window with the fistful of pebbles she'd been throwing at his window. The racket exploding from the boombox had sparked a reaction in Steven's neighborhood – lights went on across the street, dogs barked in the distance, and he couldn't be sure but he thought he heard a car alarm go off.

"What the hell are you doing?!" Steven hollered down to the girl, who only grinned up at him. Her dark lipstick made her perfect mouth stand out against the rest of her pale complexion, and Steven forgot that he was ever upset with her in the first place.

He hustled down the stairs, and ushered his confused stepdad back into bed. Steven threw a coat on before he opened the front door and raced around the side of the house to meet his crush.

"What's going on?!" He asked again over the blaring punk music that he didn't recognize. As he approached her, Lorelai turned the music a little lower and set the boombox down on the ground.

"What's it look like? I'm serenading you," She explained, flushing in the face. Steven was taken aback, and assessed the girl. She was uncomfortable, he could tell, but when her eyes fell on him he sensed other emotions as well – _excitement, hopefulness, fondness._ He smiled widely at her.

"I thought this kind of stuff only happened in movies," Steven joked, enormously pleased. The neighbors peered out their windows and doors, but he paid no attention to them.

"I wanted to make it up to you," Lorelai explained, playing with the fringe of her plaid skirt, "After what happened, you know. On Friday."

Steven's face dropped at the memory, but Lorelai continued.

"Don't worry about my friends. They're _assholes_ sometimes," She laughed, and a smile slowly slid back onto Steven's face. "I didn't even get to thank you for the flowers!"

Lorelai gestured absentmindedly to the battered flora she had tucked behind her ear, part of the arrangement Steven had intended to give her. He was so excited about to see her wearing it, that he didn't bother to remember he'd cast it on the floor of the empty classroom, and he didn't bother to wonder how it had gotten to her. Abruptly, she thrusted a CD into his hands.

"Here," she stumbled through her words, blushing again, "I, uh- I burned you a CD. I didn't know what kind of music you listened to, so I just picked some of my favorites."

Now it was Steven's turn to blush. He accepted the present appreciatively, and they regarded each other for another moment, embarrassed, but enamored of one another. The punk serenade played in the background, and Lorelai dug the toe of her combat boots into the muddy grass.

"So, how about it?" She finally spoke. Steven looked at her blankly.

"H-how about what?" He asked, confused. Lorelai smiled at him sweetly, her kind eyes regarding him with warmth. He had no doubt of her feelings for him now.

"Well, how about homecoming?" The words gushed out of her mouth, as though she was excited to hear his answer. She waited expectantly, eyes bright and glittering. Steven almost choked on his answer, he couldn't get it out fast enough.

"Y-yeah! Yeah, of course I'll go to homecoming with you!" He exclaimed, relief washing over him.

They chattered excitedly on the lawn for a while longer, but eventually found their way to the empath's front porch. The neighbors had resumed tending to their own business, and the quiet of night fell again. The rain continued to drizzle as the pair talked under the awning, both damp from standing out in the weather.

"Do you want to come in for a little while?" Steven offered, hopeful. Lorelai shook her head and smiled.

"I can't, my brother's waiting for me," She explained, gesturing to a beat-up pickup truck idling across the street. A tall lanky form was waiting patiently in the driver's seat, and cigarette smoke leaked out the cracked window. The engine idled roughly and the windshield wipers lazily slapped the rain off the front window.

Steven nodded in understanding, but secretly he was disappointed. Still, the excitement of the evening would be enough to carry his spirits for a long time.

"I'll see you tomorrow, though?" Lorelai asked him, and he nodded vigorously. Before he could respond, she leaned forward and pecked him on the cheek, then dashed across the road with boombox in tow. The truck was halfway down the street before his mind processed what happened, and a wide smile slid onto his face.

He made his way inside, climbed the stairs in a daze, and crawled under the covers. Steven went to bed riding on a wave of elation, a goofy grin plastered on his face, and the flawless shape of Lorelai's lips imprinted on his cheek in dark purple lipstick.

… **.**

 **Hey, all. I hope you liked this chapter! I felt like Steven just needed some attention to demonstrate his character a little better. Sorry for falling off the face of the earth for, like, the fifth time since I started writing this story. Forgive me? Leave me a review and let me know what you think. Thanks for reading!**


	16. Chapter 16- After the Rain

… **.. Back to Nora POV …..**

The following Monday, school had me dragging my feet. I woke up to the sun shining through parted clouds, like a brightly illuminated window flanked by weighty gray curtains. The rain over the weekend hadn't been very heavy, yet it had been constant. The pavement was slick with wetness and the usually vibrant trees seemed muted and heavy under the recent rain. The sun cast an amber tinge to everything it touched, creating an alien atmosphere.

Everything felt wrong to me that morning, like it had all weekend. Breakfast tasted bland, and even the black coffee I slugged on the way out the door failed to make an impression on my taste buds. I left the house feeling like I had forgotten something important, and I turned back around to check. Walking into my room, everything was in order – I had my wallet, keys, backpack, homework, gym bag…

My eyes fell on the leather jacket peeking out of my closet. I'd hung it up in an effort to keep it as a secret from my family, because I knew if I left it hanging on my bedroom chair (or, God forbid, in the _foyer_ ) that someone would wonder whose coat it was. Then I'd have to explain about Warren, and I couldn't see that happening anytime soon. I turned my back on the room, mentally chastising myself for returning home. I'd probably miss the bus. I took a step towards the stairs, stopped, and finally opted to retrieve Warren's leather jacket from it's hiding place. I slid my arms into it, thinking maybe it would bring me some comfort on a day when I felt I really needed it.

I ran to the bus stop, and from a distance I could see everyone boarding. Ron, the driver, knew me by name, and I was hoping he wouldn't leave without me. I continued to run, and as I approached the bus, was surprised to see someone running towards it from the opposite direction, too.

"Nora!" Steven panted, his voice small in the distance. I slowed to a jog, confused about what he was doing. As he got closer, I could distinguish his features more clearly. His face was red from running – and crying. I dropped my bag where I stood and ran to meet him.

"Nora, I'm sorry for the- the terrible things I told you last week," Steven mumbled as we reached each other. He grabbed my forearms with a strength I didn't think him capable of, and I returned the motion. He was breathing heavily and sweating as he continued his apology.

"None of what happened was your fault and," Steven gasped for air, fatigued from running and crying. I had started to cry, too. "And I'm just a _really shitty_ friend for taking it out on youuu..."

He finally broke down into solid tears, and so did I. I hadn't fully understood how much his friendship meant to me, until we came face to face again after our "break up". My emotions mounted and overwhelmed me as we pulled each other into a sloppy hug, and I realized suddenly, _I missed him…_

"Please forgive me," Steven said in a blubbery voice, and we pulled away from each other. My shirt was wet from his snot and tears, but I didn't care. I had my best friend back.

"Yes, of course I forgive you!" I declared, almost yelled, in what can only be described as triumph. I smiled at him through my own tears, and Steven grinned at me with renewed vigor.

"You were right, anyways," He sniffled, picking up his bag from the sidewalk. He walked with me to where I'd dropped my own backpack, and then we headed to the bus. "About how to ask Lorelai to homecoming, I mean – she said yes!"

We entered the bus as the last two to board, hooting and hollering, faces still stained with tears. The driver and the other students looked at us disbelievingly, and in the back of my mind I knew they must have seen our strange, emotional reunion. I decided that I didn't much care, and took my usual seat with my best friend. A huge weight had been lifted off my shoulders, and all seemed right in the world again.

During that ride to school, Steven and I picked up where we left off. I was immeasurably excited that he and Lorelai were going to homecoming together, and almost squealed out loud when he finally confessed that _she_ had asked _him._ He gave me all the gory details of his weekend, confiding in me that he'd spent most of it crying in bed and lamenting his behavior. He mentioned that Warren had come to comfort him, and I sat back in my seat, surprised. I hastily tucked that information away for later, and continued to listen as Steven filled me in on all the recent excitement.

After that, the day passed typically. The school day came and went in a wave of normalcy that it seemed only I delighted in, and I needed only look around to count my blessings. My best friend to my right, my crush to my left, and my friends all around me.

 _I guess it doesn't get much better than this,_ I thought to myself.

Later, after a hard day of Save the Citizen practice, Boomer briefed the whole team on the upcoming tournament.

We sat quietly on the hard floor surrounding Coach Boomer, who was standing with the dry erase board. Although no one was talking, he still yelled and gestured noisily to the bracket we would all be competing in. His handwriting was barely discernable, but I couldn't have paid attention if I tried. The weekend had been an emotional rollercoaster and it was taking its toll on me after the fact. Fatigue overwhelmed my senses and even when Boomer blew his whistle to dismiss practice, and the athletes bustled around me noisily, it was moments before I stood from my sitting position. It was the kind of exhaustion you feel after crying for a very, very long time.

Warren and I walked through the abandoned hallways toward the front of the school. I yawned uncontrollably, and rubbed my eyes, willing them to focus – at least until I got on the bus.

"Did you get _any_ sleep this weekend?" Warren asked, and his tone of voice expressed his knowledge of the affairs that had taken place. I shook my head.

"Not hardly," I confessed, looking up at him with tired eyes. He took in my worn features, and I was suddenly very conscious of my unkempt hair, dirty jersey, and hand-me-down sneakers.

"But I'm gonna sleep good tonight," I stated as we boarded the bus. The heater was malfunctioning (again), although I knew Ron had kept the bus running for a good twenty minutes before practice ever let out. Most of the athletes crammed into the middle seats, closest to the wheel wells, where space was limited but the undercarriage of the vehicle generated the most heat. Me and my pyrokinetic headed to the back of the bus as usual, away from the other students. It was quieter in the back, which was how Warren and I both preferred it, and I knew he would keep me warm without me ever asking.

I sat on the inside seat, closest the metal-framed window, and I waited for Warren to ease himself into the seat next to me to sidle up. I felt a special kind of satisfaction that came from reuniting with Steven, and I would hold that fuzzy feeling in my heart for a long time to come.

As the bus began to move and our journey was underway, my fatigue overcame me and I curled into Warren. It had been such a good day, I felt like taking a chance and slung my leg over his. I moved his arm from where it rested at his side, and gently placed it around my shoulders so I could coil my body into his.

"What're you –" Warren started, surprised. I felt his body temperature rise ever so slightly as I buried my face in the crook of his neck. It pleased my tired mind to get a reaction out of him, although I knew I was stepping into uncertain territory.

"Shhh," I told him, wrapping my arms around my body for warmth, "I'm tired. Cold. Don't argue."

"Wasn't gonna," Warren mumbled, angling his body towards me.

Flush with mine, Warren's body felt comfortable and natural. Since he'd lent me his jacket at the cast party, he was wearing only a short sleeve t-shirt that was still damp with sweat from practice. I was wearing his jacket just then, and pulled it tighter around my neck as the frigid air creeped in. We were comfortable and silent, and the rest of the bus was unusually quiet. I wasn't complaining.

"Thanks for going to see Steven," I abruptly mused aloud. "For comforting him, I mean."

"He told you?" Warren moved suddenly, holding himself away to look down at me. I peered up at him, exhausted, willing him to hold me tight to his chest again.

I nodded. Why wouldn't Steven tell me? "I think he really needed someone to help him out. Guy-to-guy type thing, you know…" I continued, craning my neck back and resting my head on Warren's firm shoulder. His arm still supported my head and shoulders, and his other hand had settled comfortably on my thigh. I could feel the heat radiate from his palm and through my sweatpants.

It was dark now, and the headliner lights on the bus were turned out. Less likely for us to be spotted as a UFO if the lights were off, I reasoned. I gazed up at Warren, and in a combination of the darkness and my tiredness, his usually chiseled and distinguishable features were blurred together. I didn't mind, though – it was like looking at a Monet painting. His features were beautifully impressionistic, adorned in patterns of lines I wished to trace again and again. The dark hair melted into bronze skin, subtly rosy across the cheekbones, and his eyes were the sweet honey-brown I adored.

As his sweet eyes stared down at me, I felt an overwhelming desire to express myself to him. I wanted to find a way to explain how important he was, how much I admired him, how grateful I was for him. I fought for the right words but couldn't find them, so I settled on the simplest, most meaningful phrase I could muster.

"You're very _kind_ ," I whispered to him, and I saw his brows come together in disbelief as he looked down at me. He opened his mouth to protest.

"I'm not –" Warren began, but stopped short as I planted a kiss on his jawline, near to his chin. I held my lips there for a little longer than I needed to, surprised at the pleasant heat that met my mouth. I didn't look at him as I pulled away and put my head back in the crook of his neck.

 _You are,_ I wanted to argue. _The kindest anyone's ever been to me…_

But he just settled back onto me, weighty arm around my shoulders and hand on my thigh. I felt his chest rise and fall evenly under my head, and the cold no longer bothered me.

It was a while before he spoke again.

"Nora, are you keeping something from me?" He asked.

My eyes slowly came open as I interpreted his question, but I felt calm. As if I knew we'd have this conversation eventually, and if anyone could understand me, it was Warren.

"Yeah," I answered honestly. I didn't know what else to say.

"From everyone?"

I nodded, too tired to talk, only having energy to keep my eyes open. The bus was on the pavement now, driving as a typical vehicle, dropping each athlete off at their stop. The streetlamps illuminated the square panes for only a moment as they passed by, and the slowly moving lines of light caught my eye as they alighted on the bus interior.

"Are you happy?" Warren asked, and it took me by surprise. I gave it a moment's thought before nodding again, my cheek rubbing the material of his t-shirt up and down. I felt Warren nod his head in response.

"Okay," He sighed, his voice echoing through his chest and into my head. "That's good enough for me."

And we didn't say any more.


	17. Chapter 17- Dampening the Flames

I turned in my bed over and over, willing sleep to return. I woke in the wee hours of the morning but the night sounds I was accustomed to instead gave way to silence outside. I realized it must be that awkward time between dark and dawn when the owls settled into their nests, but the songbirds had not yet risen. No cars traveled along the road. Not a soul in my home stirred. The silence was binding and agonizing.

I anticipated the upcoming days with excitement. After the trouble with Steven, and a happy reunion on Monday morning, I was ready to get back on track that week. The Save the Citizen Homecoming Tournament would start that evening, a Wednesday, and games would be held every evening through Friday.

To the general student body the tournament was the overture leading to the main event, Homecoming. But all that preoccupied my mind were the upcoming games. Warren and I had worked so hard together for the previous months, that I knew our efforts could only manifest themselves in a positive way. I was ready to get in the arena and put our skills to the test.

The entire school was riding on a high that day. Teachers and students alike could only talk about the tournament. Banners decorated the entrance hall to the school. And the team mates who were usually distant from Warren and me greeted us in the hallway that morning and exchanged high-fives, faces smiling and encouraging.

Then study hall came, and almost as soon as the second bell rang, a voice came over the PA.

" _Will the teachers please excuse all Save the Citizen Teams from class… They will be meeting with Coach Boomer in the gymnasium for the upcoming tournament…"_

Before the voice finished, the athletes were up out of their seats and headed towards the gym. The other students hollered and clapped as we went, promising to come watch later when the games started. I left the classroom smiling excitedly.

As it was, we were only being dismissed to begin warmups. Teams from competing schools wouldn't arrive for an hour or so, giving the Sky High partners ample time to prepare in our own auditorium.

I walked into the gym, sneakers squeaking off the wood floor, grasping my bag tightly. The janitors were hauling the auxiliary bleachers away from the wall, sending the sound of screeching metal echoing to the rafters. A few parents had arrived and were setting up the concessions stand, and the teachers manning the ticket booth were already present on either side of the double doors opening into the gym. I breathed in deeply – the smell of sweat, wood floors, metal bleachers, and anticipation. This was going to be good.

Warren and I nodded to each other, peeling away to go into separate locker rooms. I could tell the girls locker room had not been properly cleaned over the weekend because there were still petals and greenery on the floor from the bouquet I had brandished at Lorelai the past Friday. I pushed that complex dilemma out of my head and focused on the game at hand, and discreetly kicked the dead flowers under my locker.

The time before the tourney began had me eager to begin. In the center of the gym ceiling an hour ticked down on the scoreboard, and although the team from Sky High had the run of the gym to start with, soon the auditorium was teeming with the competition. Our team fell back into one corner to warm up as the large space became more crowded and noisier.

Warren and I ran a few laps, then settled down to stretch. We were sitting quietly on the floor reaching for our toes when I realized I'd forgotten something.

"Hey, I have something for you!" I remembered suddenly, digging through my gym bag. I pulled out a crumpled, brown lunch bag that bore Warren's name on it.

"I made you a spirit bag*," I stated, handing him the item. His strong hands reached out to take it, the flames on his arms winking at me from beneath fingerless gloves.

"Thanks," Warren responded, and he seemed pleased. I blushed.

"I meant to give it to you earlier. Don't get too excited," I chattered, "It's only some snacks and a mini Gatorade."

 _And a pack of hairbands as a joke,_ I thought, humored with myself. But I would wait for him to find those on his own.

"I brought you something, too," Warren confessed, rummaging through his own bag.

My curiosity peaked, and he turned to me with palm outstretched. In it lay a long ribbon, a couple inches wide, patterned with a motif. I realized he intended me to wear it, and in fact I had worn ribbons in my hair for many sporting events in the past. It was tradition to keep them after the game and tie them onto your sports bag. The cluster of ribbons on my bag attested to that.

But none were as meaningful as this. I looked closer at the motif and realized with delight that the bright orange spots against the black ribbon were indeed _fireballs_.

"This is so _cute!_ " I squealed, gently taking it from Warren's hand. I looked up to find him blushing but grinning, as I'm sure I was. "I love it!"

"I'm glad," Warren laughed out, scratching the back of his neck. "I gotta confess, the ribbon was my mom's idea, but I picked the design out myself."

I smiled impishly at him.

"I'm sure you did," I snickered, scooting around clockwise so he could reach my ponytail, "Tie it on for me?"

I handed him the small sliver of material that meant so much to me, and his hands fumbled clumsily with it.

"I'm not very good at tying a bow," he grumbled, mostly to himself, as he primped and prodded at my ponytail. I could only beam at his words.

"Makes no difference," I said, "Just make sure you double-knot it. I'm going for blood today."

Warren laughed, finished with my hair. I reached back to feel for the ribbon and make sure it was securely in place, so that I wouldn't lose it during a match.

"You know, back in the old days," I teased him, righting the crooked bow. "A guy gave a girl a ribbon and it meant they were going steady."

Warren didn't laugh like I expected him to, or retort with a witty comment. He studied my face intently and with a sudden intensity that took me by surprise.

"Would that be so bad?" He asked in a quiet, questioning voice.

I was taken by surprise, and it took me a moment too long to form a coherent thought.

"Here you guys are!" Layla's voice distracted me as she and Will approached us. I tore my gaze unwillingly from Warren as the couple sat down across from us. "We've been looking all over."

The pair joined us in our stretches, chatting lightly. I tried to shake Warren's wayward comment from my mind but felt inexplicably excited at it. I was too preoccupied with my sudden hope that I didn't see Will eyeing me from across our little circle, studying me, and scanning the crowds.

"Hey, Warren," Will interjected, "I think your mom just got here."

My eyes followed to where Will was pointing in the stands. Warren waved to his mother across the gymnasium, and a tall, dark woman waved back. She was dressed professionally and in all black, purse hung neatly in the crook of her arm. The top half of her dark hair was pinned back. It jostled loosely around her shoulders as she waved back to her son.

I was curious about Warren's family. He spoke very seldom of his father, and not often of his mother, either. I could see now how closely his features resembled his mom's, but I tried not to stare or draw attention to myself.

I leaned forward to stretch, peeking discreetly at Mrs. Peace over my shoulder. She was mouthing something to her son from across the gymnasium.

" _Nora_?" She asked silently, gesturing in my direction. From the corner of my eye, Warren nodded his head in response.

" _She's cute!"_ Mrs. Peace mouthed again, nodding in approval and giving her son a thumbs-up sign. I hid my face away from Warren so he wouldn't see the idiotic smile that had formed. Warren put his head in his hands, embarrassed even across the great length of the auditorium. But I saw his mouth turn up in a smile never the less.

"Say, Nora," Will called my attention away from the silent conversation I'd witnessed, "I don't see your parents anywhere."

The comment took me off guard. I looked at him quizzically, wondering what prompted the observation.

 _Well, yeah, you don't see my parents. You've never even met them…_

"Yeah, they couldn't make it today," I said, which was only a half lie. Will's face bore a queer expression, and it was making me uncomfortable.

"Come to think of it, I've never seen them at any of the games," he continued. I paled as Layla reached out to nudge her boyfriend with an elbow.

"Will," She warned him in a cautionary voice. I looked at her from the corner of my eye. _She_ knew that my parents hadn't come to the games because they didn't even know I was playing. I had confided that in her weeks ago. Realization dawned on me as I reckoned she must have told Will, too.

"What?" Will retorted, sounding irritated. My anxiety climbed. "It's an honest question."

Will turned to me, stony-faced, expecting an answer. I struggled to make up a lie, to add yet another layer of untruth to my already complex charade, and could think of nothing to say.

Throughout the gym, the buzzer resounded, calling the teams to their respective benches. Relieved, I jumped up a little faster than I intended, and Warren followed suit.

"We should probably head over," I offered lamely, grabbing up my bag and taking great strides through the throng of athletes and spectators. Will and Layla followed behind, and in a moment Warren caught up with me. He made no remarks about my exchange with Will, but his face was guarded and his eyes were cloudy with skepticism. I cursed myself for breaking his trust, even though it was an accident.

I brushed the whole episode off my shoulders to listen as Coach briefed us all. The arena was divided by "geography," meaning each topographical zone was now its own playing ground. Zone One was the simulated mountain and surrounding area, Zone Two was the brick walls and high rises representing downtown, etc. This way several matches could be played at one time. A referee would be manning each zone to keep the players fair, and we would progress according to the brackets. Warren and I would be up first.

After a short address from Principal Powers, we were released to our games, and hell broke loose. What was normally a contact sport became even rougher in the face of limited time and space. The referees, usually very stringent about technique and poor conduct, turned a blind eye in an effort to keep the games going. In a tournament with such limited time, the clock didn't stop ticking, not even for fouls. So the refs simply didn't make very many calls.

I preferred it that way. Sure, it meant we all got kicked around a little more than usual – but it also meant I got away with more than I normally could, and for that I wasn't complaining.

As Warren and I played together my worries melted away. My strange conversation with Will, and the realization that Layla had betrayed my trust to him, fell into the farthest reaches of my mind. I could focus only on the game at hand, and just as I had hoped, Warren and I were _sensational._ We won our first match, and excitedly waited for our next one to start. We were scheduled for Zone Two next and we sat on our team's bench, observing the other lineups and scouting their abilities, discussing tactics. Everything was as it should be.

The next match was more difficult than either of us could've anticipated. Of all the partners we'd scouted so far, Warren and I hadn't had a chance to observe the two people we were up against.

The game began, and we split into our usual divide-and-conquer routine. Warren, being the powerhouse, took on the hero of the pair. As I faced off the sidekick and landed the first blow, it became painfully aware of what his superpower was.

I went flying through the makeshift "downtown" streets and came skidding to a halt at an intersection. I cursed myself for wearing a tank top under my playing jersey and not a t-shirt or long sleeve, as I leaned upwards with floorburns on my bare arms.

How was I supposed to hit this guy if his body was made of _rubber?_

The blow I landed had sent me careening through the area, as if I'd bounced violently off a trampoline. This wasn't the first time I'd seen this power, but I knew from experience that beating him would be difficult, if not impossible.

I risked a glance in Warren's direction and found him fighting against a small girl who could apparently sling some kind of sticky, goopy mass from her palms. Warren's left foot was stuck by that material to the pavement as he flung fireballs roughly in the opposing hero's direction. My hero was strong, that was for sure – Warren managed to yank his foot apart from the pavement and advance toward the citizen slowly, but his gait was comical. It was as if he had a very large wad of gum stuck to his shoe, holding him back with every step he took. I groaned aloud.

" _Seriously?"_ I groaned, hauling myself up off the ground, "A rubber-and-glue routine? You've gotta be kidding me."

As it was, I was struggling. I fell into defensive maneuvers as the other sidekick attacked, and I evaded him by using the surrounding buildings, lampposts, and walls to find cover. But I knew I couldn't hold out forever, and even if I could I wasn't helping the citizen any by hiding. Boomer hollered at us from the sidelines, but I didn't hear him. My mind was working deviously on a plan that just might earn us the win.

I took cover behind a blue post office drop box. Warren was close to the citizen – that was good. The pixie-like heroine hindered his movements as much as she could, but otherwise could not combat with his pyrokinetic powers. Warren was slowly but surely making his way to the citizen, but as the clock ticked, I wondered if he'd have enough time to get there?

I ducked to avoid a sudden attack from my opponent, and rolled into an alleyway near to where Warren was standing. The rubber boy followed me, intending to push me farther back into the dead end, and I backed away from him accordingly. It was just what I needed.

"Warren!" I called to my partner, who glanced at me from the corner of his eye. His golden skin shone against the firelight originating in his hands, and I could see the sweat glistening on his temples. "Warren, stop what you're doing and go human torch!"

"What?!" He called back to me, dodging another sling of glue and throwing a fireball, "But that's a defense mechanism! What good will it –"

"Just do it! Do it now!" I commanded him. He stopped moving forward, braced himself for a mere moment, and with a war-cry his body was engulfed totally in flames. It was mesmerizing.

My opponent, confused but determined, ignored Warren and came closer to me. I was almost to the end of the alley, and at the mouth of that alleyway Warren shone like a beacon. The flighty girl with the sticky hands threw glue-balls at Warren, but they only went up in black smoke and did him no harm.

" _Go higher_!" I demanded, and he did. The flames leapt up another several feet, licking the surrounding buildings and marking them with soot. I could feel the heat from where I stood yards away. His body was almost indistinguishable from the blaze now, and his perfect silhouette was all that remained.

There were seconds on the clock, and I made my move. My power erupted from me like a burst of new energy and moved into my limbs. I sprang into motion, nimbly jumping from wall to wall in a back-and-forth motion, propelling myself into the air at the very summit of the brick walls. I let my body fall feet first onto the shoulders of my unsuspecting opponent, gathering momentum on my way down. He acted as a human trampoline, and with _what speed_ I propelled myself up towards the rafters of the gymnasium!

I soared through the air. My arms reached as far as they could towards the small metal spoke on the ceiling, and I almost couldn't reach the sprinkler. As it was, my fingertips barely brushed it just as I reached the apex of my jump, and I tore at it viciously. It broke, spraying everything within a thirty foot radius. Before I ever began falling from my jump, the water had already reached the ground and was producing the amazing smoke-screen effect I had hoped for.

The entire downtown area filled immediately with a smoky, hazy screen – a combination of Warren's flames and the water from the sprinkler. I used my powers to guide my descent, and allowed my animal instincts to kick in before I made contact with the ground. I rolled and my body jostled roughly against the pavement, but it wasn't as bad as it could have been.

Voices called out in the confusion, and I heard coughing and panicky voices. I let my senses guide me towards the citizen, balanced precariously at the end of a rope, and I dove to save her seconds before the buzzer went off. The clock stopped with a few moments to spare, and I rose from the pavement with citizen in tow – _we'd won!_

The voices from the stands were louder now, and genuine worry sounded from the spectators. The sprinkler continued to batter us all with a watery downpour, and the steam began to clear a little. I used my other eyes to find Warren through the blinding haze, casting the citizen aside.

"Warren," I called excitedly as I reached him, grabbing his shoulder, "Warren, we won!"

He was bent over toward the ground with his hands on his knees. I could hear his voice, small, over the throng of people in the gymnasium.

"Nora, I can't see," He grumbled out, standing up and wiping the water from his face. The steam emanating through the gym was dissipating but still very heavy, and I put my arm around him to guide him out of the arena.

I walked him through the double doors of the gymnasium and thought with confusion that he was putting far too much weight on me. I leaned him against a neighboring brick wall, turning to him expectantly.

I smiled at him, but stopped when I looked into his face. Warren's dark hair was matted with water and his normally bronzed skin looked pale under the fluorescent lights of the hallway. His breathing was shallow and shaky, and he reached out to grip my arms tightly.

"What's wrong?" I asked, grasping his forearms and studying him with alarm – even his tattoos seemed to have lost some of their vibrance. He veered forward, dangerously unsteady on his feet.

"I don't know," Warren said, dark eyes regarding me with a glazed look.

Abruptly, he passed out. His weight fell toward me, and I came close to dropping him. I eased him to the ground with panic welling in me, and I called for help.

Nurse Spex turned the corner moments later, and many spectators followed her. I have a vague recollection of Coach Boomer being there, as well, but could distinguish no other faces in the crowd. Only Warren's pale, unmoving face and form, lying pitifully wet on the floor of the hallway.

"We should get him to the nurse's station," Spex's voice echoed in my head. I nodded slowly, my mind not having fully comprehended the situation.

Adrenaline rushed through me and in a moment Warren was balanced precariously across my shoulders, in a sort of fireman's carry. My heightened senses, still left over from the match, surged through my body anew and allowed me strength to hoist my unconscious partner up. The crowd standing by made noises of exclamation, but I didn't hear them. I thought only of Warren, ailing and in need of attention, and I reached the nurse's office with very little effort.

Almost as soon as I laid him down on the examination table, Spex tried to banish me outside. I stood unmoving.

"What?" I said, snapping out of my hazy reverie and quickly becoming agitated. "What? No! I'm not leaving him like this-"

"Nora!" Another voice came, turning me towards her. I recognized the face as that of Mrs. Peace. She grabbed me firmly by the shoulders. "Nora, calm down."

I took a deep breath and nodded. Normally, nobody could have talked me away from Warren's side. Maybe it was because I wanted his mother to like me that I obeyed her.

"You sit outside for now," She ordered me kindly, "I'll stay with him."

I nodded again at her words, trying to convince myself to be reasonable. I let her usher me out of the office. A heavy wooden door closed behind me, and what few spectators that had followed the commotion left promptly. Silence ensued in the long, empty hallway, and I paced uncontrollably.

Moments later I heard two pairs of rapid footsteps approaching from the end of the hallway. Will paced toward me, expression angry. Layla was behind him looking distressed.

" _What the hell do you think you're doing?"_ Will seethed, driving a pointed finger into my chest. Bad move. My face turned into a snarl, and I think my eyes changed, too.

"You think I meant for this to happen?" I retorted, slapping his hand away. I threw my shoulders back and chest out on reflex. "I didn't know that it was going to throw him into a coma!"

"Oh, like you care!" Will retorted, red-faced. "You don't care who gets hurt as long as you get to live your little lie!"

My mouth fell open, and I looked between him and Layla incredulously.

"I knew it!" I declared, swerving around Will to point an accusatory finger at the botanokinetic. "You told him!"

She looked at me with an apologetic expression and began to make an excuse. Will cut her short.

"Well, it's a good thing somebody's telling the truth around here," Will remarked sarcastically. My anger flared.

"What do you know?" I demanded, my emotions threatening to spiral out of control during an already terse situation, "What do you know about anything?!"

" _Nothing, Nora!"_ Will practically screamed, "We don't know anything about you! We don't know who you are, or what your parents look like. We don't even know what your powers are! But you expect us to—to trust you?!"

His final words cut deep into me, but I'd be damned before I gave him the satisfaction of seeing the hurt on my face. I stepped toward him angrily.

"Well then do something about it, Stronghold, or _get off my back!"_ I howled into his face, pushing him roughly. He grabbed the front of my jersey with both hands, balling the mesh material into his fists. Our scowling faces were inches from each other's and I was getting ready to head butt him when Boomer's voice knocked me back.

" _ **BREAK IT UP!"**_

The lockers in the hallway shook dangerously, and a banner fell from its place on the wall. The shockwave sent me careening across the floor and I landed roughly on my butt. My head whipped around to face Will again, also sprawled on the floor across the hall, anger still pulsing through me. I was ready to get up and fight him when another figure came to stand between us.

I looked up into the face of a livid Mrs. Peace.

" _Get. Up."_

Her voice was tense and unmoving, and I could only obey. Scrambling, Will and I glared at each other from separate sides of the hallway.

"Will, Layla – you two are up next match," Boomer directed them, his body tense. "To the gym. NOW."

Will peeled his eyes away from mine. He stalked back to the gym agitated, and Layla followed him. She turned to me with apologetic eyes, but I didn't want much to do with her just then. Boomer followed behind them, corralling them towards the gymnasium. I watched them go from my place behind Mrs. Peace.

Seconds later, she turned to me. Her face was no longer stony but tired, and her eyes seemed tear-stained. I realized with sudden clarity how worried she must be about her son, and that my fight with Will had been warranted, sure – but ultimately disrespectful.

"I'm sorry," I addressed her quietly. My voice came out a little more broken than I intended, as if I was apologizing for more than she knew about.

And maybe I was.

Mrs. Peace smiled a tired, weary smile at me. A toothless smile. A knowing smile.

"He's asking for you," She said.

I entered the room, quietly closing the door behind me. My stomach was heavy. I wondered idly if Warren had felt this way when, only a short while ago, it was me on the padded table and he sitting at the bedside. The lights were dimmed to allow him to rest, but I knew he was awake when I looked into the darkness with my other eyes.

"You oughta quit doing that, or people are gonna start to notice."

Warren's voice was breathy and fatigued. I pulled a chair up close to his bed and put a hand on his arm. Something unnerved me, and I comprehended suddenly that his skin was _chilly._

"How do you feel?" I asked lamely, dancing around his comment. We would save that talk for another day. His form rolled to face me, the lumbering mass of his body gently turning the scratchy blanket covering him. I heard his teeth chatter.

"Cold," Warren remarked, and laughed a little. "Never felt that way before."

I couldn't look at him, not even in the dimness. My hand traveled along his strong arm, tracing the flames licking up his wrists, gently trying to rub them back to life.

"Bet you never thought you'd see me curled up under a blanket," Warren joked in a quiet, hoarse voice. "Spex said it's for the shock. I guess that's what happens when you go from one extreme to the other too fast."

Warren was being his usual self – casual, and kind. But I felt responsible for his poor condition, and a voice in the back of my mind told me I deserved no kindness, especially not from Warren.

"Hey," He said, voice suddenly alarmed. He leaned up on his elbow with effort. "Don't cry."

I turned my head away from him, looking at the blank white, concrete wall as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. I rubbed my eyes harshly.

"I'm not," I mumbled, but he knew better.

"Nora…"

A cold hand touched my face gently, turning me to face him. His expression was knitted in a way that rang with compassion, and if I hadn't been so preoccupied with his gorgeous features, I would've hated myself for endangering him the way I did.

"It's not your fault," Warren tried to reason with me, and on reflex I enclosed his hand with my own. "If you'd known it was gonna happen this way, you never would have pulled a stunt like that. Right?"

I nodded vigorously in agreement, afraid that if I spoke I would cry.

"Then what're you crying for?" Warren spoke quietly, pulling me into him, "C'mere."

I wrapped my arms around him and squeezed him desperately. He rolled off the elbow that served as a prop and pulled me half on top of him, holding me tightly to his chest with both arms. My feet were still on the floor, but I stood on my tip-toes and let my weight gently onto him. Warren tucked his chin into the crook of my neck, tickling the skin. After a moment we released one another, and he kissed my cheek lightly before fully letting me go.

I settled back into the chair, felt naked in the dim room, and reached out to hold his hand. A moment passed before either of us spoke again.

"So what's this they tell me? About you carrying me all the way here to the nurse's office?" Warren's voice, comical in tone, broke the silence. I grinned.

"Yeah," I admitted, looking at him, "Yeah, it's true."

"No way," Warren stated, disbelief strong in his voice. "There's just no way."

"I really did!" I protested, and decided maybe now wasn't the time to brag on my powers. "Adrenaline can do that!"

Warren just shook his head and settled onto his side. His eyes slid closed to rest.

"I'll have to see it for myself," He declared, breaths coming deep and even. I held his hand firmly between mine while he drifted off too sleep.

"Maybe someday," I told him.

… **.**

 ***a spirit bag is something that you might put together in honor of a sports game. Typically they're handed out the day of a game, maybe during school, and they have little snacks or drinks or other little items in them. A captain of a sports team might make them for their players and include a note. Stuff like that. It's supposed to get everyone pumped up for the game.**

 **Hey all! Hope you liked this chapter, 'cuz I know I did (hehehe). It's a long one, but I figured what the heck – you guys deserve it. Sorry for all the sports lingo, but I did my best to explain all that in the context of the story (like the ribbon thing. If you played sports you'll know LOL). Thanks for the feedback, and don't forget to leave a review. Kisses ~~~**


	18. Chapter 18- Light a Candle

… **. (3** **rd** **Person POV) …**

Mrs. Peace stood in the entrance to her son's bedroom and knocked gently on the door frame. The door was open, and across the room she could see Warren sprawled across a bed that was almost too small for him. On his back, with limbs outstretched over the edge of the mattress, the morning sunlight fell across his features and reminded Mrs. Peace just how much Warren resembled his father.

She approached the bed and, sitting on the edge, roused him awake.

"Warren," She cooed, shaking his shoulder, "Warren, I'm leaving for work now."

He came to with a soft gasp of breath, eyes wide for a moment before settling into lazy slits. It took him a minute to orient himself to consciousness.

"Hi, mom," He said, rubbing his face. "Is it time to get up?"

"Not for you, it isn't," She smiled at him, "I'm about to head to work. I wanted to see how you're feeling before I left."

"Fine," Warren answered, but it was out of reflex. He felt disoriented and his body was heavy. More than that, he was _cold_ , for the first time in a long time.

"Uh-huh," His mom answered skeptically, feeling his forehead with the back of her hand, "You're still clammy…"

"You heard what Spex said," Warren responded, voice still breathy from sleep, "The symptoms will go away in their own time. But the shock just…"

Mrs. Peace nodded.

"I know. The shock of it all made your body react of its own accord," She looked at her son with a pitiful expression as she spoke. His face was paler than normal, and his movements were sluggish. "I can't remember the last time you had a cold."

And it was true – as a child, Warren hadn't been prone to colds or many other illnesses. But last night's episode had thrown his body into a state of imbalance, resulting in symptoms that were surprisingly cold-like. Spex had given him the okay to go home on the condition of plenty of rest, water, and NyQuil.

"Me either," Warren groaned, turning listlessly in bed to face his mother, "I feel like crap."

She brushed the hair out of his face, and patted his back idly, face twisted in thought.

"But you played _wonderfully_ ," Mrs. Peace congratulated him, smiling brightly. Warren's face broke into a smile in return. "I don't think I've ever seen you burn that high!"

Warren's eyes, half-closed from the remains of sleep, blinked lazily in the sunlight.

"Yeah," He laughed out, then a pensive look fell over his face, "I think maybe Nora's got something to do with it."

His mother stopped short, remembering the altercation between Warren's newfound interest and Will Stronghold. She hadn't quite caught all of it, but overheard something about Nora's secrets.

As a criminal lawyer, she did _not_ like secrets.

"You like her a lot, don't you?" She pressed her son, wondering how ethical it was to be questioning him while he was still hazy from sleep and a night's worth of NyQuil. He was usually an introspective young man, but his mother sometimes frustrated herself while trying to break down his defenses. She had learned early on that the best way was to let him share his thoughts as he felt comfortable… but that didn't mean she couldn't help him along.

"Yeah, she's great," Warren agreed with a smile, nodding back off into sleep. "I really love her."

Mrs. Peace was quiet, not knowing what to say or do. Did Warren truly mean, or even know, what he'd said in his sleepy state? She was caught somewhere between weeping for the heartbreak she felt her son would inevitably experience, and also strangling him awake and shouting, _"What did you just say?!"_

She opted just to leave for work instead.

"Bye, honey," She called to her son, kissing his forehead. He was asleep already when she left the room.

Their short conversation weighed heavily on her mind as she gathered her things together. She was just preparing to leave the house when a knock resounded from the door. Curious, she peered first through the peephole, then stood astonished and unlocked the door.

"Nora," She greeted the teenager with surprise. "What are you doing here?"

Nora stood on the Peace's porch landing, hands in pockets and looking miserable. It was obvious that what fitful sleep Warren had gotten while passed out on NyQuil, Nora had gotten the same poor quality the previous night.

"I came to check on Warren," she said, taking in Mrs. Peace's appearance. She was a beautiful woman – tall and dark – and was dressed professionally, in a simple black dress and blazer. "Are you going somewhere?"

"Work," The older woman explained, inviting Nora in and continuing to gather papers into her brief case. "I have a court date today that I absolutely cannot miss. I just don't like leaving him like this."

Nora's movements stuttered, and Mrs. Peace watched her from the corner of her eye.

"How is he?" Nora asked, sounding fearful of the answer.

"Sick," Mrs. Peace said plainly, "Nurse Spex assured us his symptoms would clear up eventually of their own accord, but there's no telling when at this point."

Nora nodded, seemingly distracted as she observed the pictures on the walls. She stopped before one, an old family picture at the beach, where a very young Warren was nestled happily between both of his parents. Nora regarded at it blatantly.

"Huh," She commented, "He has his dad's nose."

From across the room, Mrs. Peace stopped, and smiled at Nora where she couldn't see. Abruptly, she checked the watch on her wrist.

"Nora," the woman said with alarm, "You're going to miss the bus."

"Already missed it," Nora sighed out, turning to face Mrs. Peace who looked at her confusedly.

"But you won't be allowed to play in the games tonight," Mrs. Peace stated. The attendance rules of Save the Citizen – in fact, of most high school sports – were well known to all athletes. If you were late or absent the day of a game, you _were not_ permitted to play.*To her surprise, Nora just shrugged.

"I know," The teen explained, leaning with both forearms on the kitchen counter. "But it'll only bump us down to the losers' bracket. Will and Layla are the runners-up for winners' bracket, so Sky High still has a pretty good chance at the championships. Coach is gonna be _pissed,"_ Nora conceded, raising her eyebrows in anticipation of Coach Boomer's anger (Mrs. Peace was just imagining the same), "But it was either this or scratch. I won't play without Warren."

Mrs. Peace regarded her silently, nodding her head in appreciation of the girl's thought process. She was more analytical than Mrs. Peace had given her credit for. More than that, Nora was willing to stand with Warren even if the price of her loyalty was to miss out on her opportunity for the championship seat. She understood a little more about Nora, and their relationship was better off for it – she decided to trust the girl.

"Do you think you can sit in with Warren today?" Mrs. Peace suddenly asked Nora, gathering her coat and case in her hands. "I don't like leaving him so helpless."

"Can I – I mean, is it okay?" Nora asked, surprised at the trust Warren's mother was suddenly bestowing upon her.

"I think so," Mrs. Peace replied with a believing smile, heading out the front door. Nora followed her and stood in the doorway. "At least for a little while? It'll make me feel better to know someone's here with him."

"Okay, sure," Nora called, still shaken by the sudden confidence Mrs. Peace was putting in her. Just as she turned to re-enter the home, the older woman called her attention once more.

"Nora," She spoke, voice firm but almost reluctant, "Just make sure you kids stay out of trouble today. Understand me?"

Nora stood blank-faced before comprehension hit her.

"Oh! You mean I should make sure not to take advantage of your son while he's so vulnerable," Nora retorted, amused. The thought hadn't even crossed her mind. She smiled genuinely. "Don't worry, Mrs. Peace. I respect him too much for that."

The older woman smiled faintly, took another step away from the house, and turned back abruptly.

"Do you love him?"

Silence. Nora stood in the doorway of the quaint home, taken by surprise. She recovered herself quickly, weighed the situation, and decided she could trust Warren's mother.

"Well," She started nervously, "I… I admire him."

Nora looked up at Mrs. Peace to find a neutral expression. Gathering her courage, she continued.

"I admire him, and I respect him, and I count on him to lead me and I would follow him anywhere –" Nora spoke boldly and with conviction, gaining momentum. "And honestly, I kinda hate myself for hurting him. So, I guess if all that translates into love, then… yeah, I love him."

It felt liberating to tell the truth after keeping secrets for so long. That sense of freedom manifested itself into a confident exhilaration as it dawned on Nora that she did indeed love Warren Peace. Her face flushed from the confession and excitement. She expected some kind of exclamation from Mrs. Peace, or at least some kind of threat, but got none.

"Okay," The older woman said pensively, nodding. It was as if Nora had reported the weather forecast instead of declaring her love for the woman's son. Mrs. Peace eyes strayed to Nora's face, and to the teen's surprise she looked Nora's outfit up-and-down with a stare that bordered on realization. Nora was confused – she was only wearing a sweatshirt under her coat, black leggings, sneakers… before she could dive further into Mrs. Peace's enigmatic stare, the woman turned on her heels and headed for the driveway.

"There's some left overs in the fridge if you get hungry," She called over her shoulder, waving. Nora watched her go, astounded at their dialog, then closed the front door behind her.

 _What's the big idea?_ She wondered, feeling shaken by all that had happened. _First she grills me about her son, then that bit about my outfit…._

Nora bent to shake her shoes off, and realized with sudden clarity just whose coat she was wearing. She buried her face in her hands, muffling a frustrated scream – sure enough, Mrs. Peace had recognized her own son's leather jacket, and had undoubtedly wondered what Nora was doing wearing it as if it was her own. On the fence between irritated and elated, Nora slipped her shoes off, flung the jacket over the bannister, and climbed the steps towards Warren's room.

… **. (Nora's POV) …**

I approached the doorway cautiously. Part of me wondered if I had any business being at Warren's house uninvited, even though his mother had technically asked me to stay. I was the cause of his illness, after all, but I was his friend – and maybe more. I just wasn't quite sure how much domain that gave me.

The door hung mostly open. I knocked firmly on the wooden doorframe, and upon hearing no response or rustle of movement, peeked my head around the corner.

My eyes fell first upon the bedroom. It was on the smaller side of the spectrum, with just enough room for a desk, bookshelf, stand-alone closet, a small dresser, and a bed. The room had a single window opposite the door, and on it's left was the desk and to the right was the bed. The bed was full-sized, but Warren's sprawling, sleeping form made it seem smaller.

To the left of the doorway, opposite the bed, leant a bookshelf sporting an assortment of books and curios. An old little league trophy served as a bookend, and on a bottom shelf was a bust of somebody undoubtedly famous and probably dead. It might have been Caesar. A faded red bandana adorned the bust, dipped strategically over one expressionless, stone eye.

In the corner stood an IKEA-esque stand alone closet, the once plain white outer surface breached with layers upon layers of stickers. It showed stickers for bands, car shows, clubs – I would have to dissect it later, to see all the places and things Warren had experienced.

I stood in the doorway awkwardly, taking in the room but not wanting to enter without permission. In the driveway, I heard Mrs. Peace's car pull away and down the drive, and the silence that ensued was pleasantly empty. I was tired. From the poor sleep I'd gotten the night before, and from the barrage of emotionally charged questions the lawyer had battered me with just a few moments ago.

I decided it was stupid for me to hover anxiously in the hallway, when it was obvious from Warren's deep and heavy breathing that he would not be waking any time soon. I browsed the bookshelf and picked up a volume I didn't recognize. Absolving myself to sit at his desk, I made myself comfortable in the dappled sunlight and began to read.

…

A rustling noise called me out of light sleep. I opened my eyes hastily, having momentarily forgotten where I was, and recalling again the situation when I heard a familiar voice.

"Ughh," Warren groaned pitifully, "That NyQuil's a _bitch._ "

"Always makes me feel like I have a hangover," I commented, groggy from my nap, "I don't take it if I can help it."

Warren, lying on his back with arms extended overhead in a stretch, halted his movements and turned to the side to look at me with a curious expression.

"Nora?" He asked sleepily, voice still husky from slumber, "What are you doing here?"

"I came by to check up on you," I told him, setting the book down on the table and rolling the desk chair closer to the bed. It was the big kind, lumbering in mass but very comfortable, like a La-Z-Boy. I'd been sitting in it so long, my butt-print was firmly indented in the soft material. "I talked with your mom. She, uh, asked me to stay with you for a little while."

Warren nodded, listening but still unfocused. He looked up at me with a sleepy face, and I found it terribly endearing. He was bundled up in a sweatshirt under the heavy comforter, and his hair fell directly out of his face onto the pillow behind him. It was unbrushed and dirty. He made no effort to move his head off the pillow as I peered at him from the bedside. Instead, his body settled back into the fluffy layers of blanket and his arms folded across his torso. My legs were crossed in the chair as I leaned forward comfortably, hands resting on knees. Warren reached out sweetly, grabbed my hand in his own, gave it a firm squeeze.

"It's good to see you," He divulged, smiling sincerely, eyes slitting into two dark, sparkling crescent moons on his perfect face. I wanted to kiss him.

"How do you feel?" I inquired, returning the motion on reflex. Holding his hand was easy. Everything around him felt natural.

"Sort of… sick," He answered. I could see it in his face – the pallor that was uncharacteristic of his vibrant skin, the dark rings under his eyes, his sluggish motions. "My body aches all over and my chest is kind of heavy, you know?"

I listened with a neutral expression plastered on my face, staving off the guilt of the reality that I'd done this to him. He must have comprehended my thoughts, because abruptly he changed topic and made a visible effort to seem more animated.

"How come you're here?" Warren asked me, glancing at the clock on the dresser. "School's in. They won't let you play now."

I rolled my eyes comically.

"Big deal," I huffed, "Boomer wanted to pair me up with some kid from the auxiliary team, but I won't play without you." I caught a glimpse of Warren's glinting, white smile and felt his grip on my hand tighten.

"Besides," I laughed a bit sardonically, "I don't think anyone else would have me."

We passed time talking slowly. Warren recovered from the mind-numbing effects of the NyQuil, and propped himself up in bed to face me. As I sat facing his bed, pushed into the farthest corner of the bedroom, I had ample time to observe the opposite wall.

There were pictures and post-it notes nestled in between posters of classic cars and hasty doodles done on loose leaf. There was a copy of that photograph of us at the cast party, an exact match to the one in his locker, that I had procured my own copy of. It set a fuzzy feeling in my gut to be featured in a picture above Warren's bed. Other pictures were there, too – of him and Will and Layla, among other people I recognized but couldn't place. In one photo, the same man I had identified as sharing Warren's nose was standing next to a car I recognized. It was the El Camino, all right, only a good few years younger in the photograph. The picture was grainy, and the amber haze told me that it was from much earlier days. I stared at it too long on accident.

We sat idly talking for a while longer before Warren began to stir.

"What are you doing?" I asked, alarmed, bracing him with my hands on his shoulder and leg. He looked at me dubiously.

"Well, I've gotta get up sometime," He retorted, throwing the covers off and sitting up on the edge of the bed with only slight effort. I realized he was right, and rolled the desk chair out of his way.

"Feel like eating?" I asked, and he nodded with brows creased. I nodded back.

"You hit the bathroom," I put the chair back in its place, pacing to the door, "I'll get some food going."

Warren agreed and I left the room.

I had gotten to the Peace's house at nearly half after nine, and now it was close to lunchtime. I inspected the leftovers in the fridge, decided that maybe soup would be more appropriate for Warren's condition, and set about the kitchen. It took some time before I could find all the necessary accoutrements, but lunch came along and eventually some soup was bubbling gently in a saucepan.

I was letting a skillet get hot on the stove for grilled cheese when I hollered through the house at Warren.

"Hey, Warren – what kind of cheese do you want?" I bellowed, and heard a faint and confused, _"What?"_ echo back through the house.

" _Cheese_ ," I yelled, "For grilled cheese! What kind do you want?"

He answered me from somewhere in the house, but I struggled to hear him over the kitchen sounds. I followed the sound of his voice, turning the corner into the foyer and leaning around the doorway.

"… or whatever there is, is fine," He was bellowing back from the second-story landing, unaware I had turned the corner. He paced across the hall from the bathroom to his bedroom, shaking his wet hair out with a small towel as another towel hung at his waist. I stopped short around the corner, appreciating his bare torso in secret delight.

The shower had done him good. His skin had regained that golden tone and was made furthermore attractive by the light gleaming of steam that still clung to it. His chest and abdomen were fit and strong, lean arms defined and wonderfully bare. Even from the bottom of the steps I appreciated the subtle tattoos winking at me from his forearms, flames rippling as his muscles moved. He turned the corner into his bedroom and my heart jumped when I looked at his back. Broad and hearty, his shoulders were wider than his waist, giving him a sleek silhouette. The landmarks on his back were more distinct than I anticipated, ridges of golden muscle sloping gracefully into a shallow dip of tailbone just before the towel obscured the rest of him. He entered his room and I hurried back into the kitchen, relishing in my first experience of seeing Warren Peace shirtless. I enjoyed it immensely, and I hoped it wasn't the last.

We ate at the kitchen island and I did my best to keep my glee to myself. Warren was hungrier than he'd realized, and after ingesting two grilled cheese sandwiches and a considerable amount of soup, he looked full and content. I scrubbed what few dishes I had made dirty as Warren watched me.

"So," I started, nervous under his gaze, "What about your powers?"

"What about them?" He answered, propping his chin up with his hand. I wasn't used to seeing him in a sweatshirt, and it was simultaneously unnerving and attractive.

"Can you still… y'know, like, _fwoom_?" I asked, illustrating his fire powers with a clenched fist and a sound effect. He grinned at the charade, then his smile fell.

"I don't know," He said, flexing his hands doubtfully, "I haven't used them since last night."

"Don't you think you should try?" I asked nervously, drying my hands off on a towel and mopping up the water I had splashed around near the sink. "Or do you think it's a bad idea to try again so soon after, you know…"

 _After I pulled that stupid stunt that almost put you in a coma…_ I thought sarcastically to myself, but daren't to say it aloud.

"Well, I definitely think it's a bad idea to try in the house," Warren laughed, as if at a private joke. "The last time I tested my powers in here? The fire department wasn't very pleased with us."

I laughed at the thought, determined to get the details of that story from him another time. Suddenly, an idea dawned on me.

"You guys keep candles around here?" I asked him. Warren regarded me quizzically, eyes curious and apprehensive.

"Yeah, I think," He answered, "Why?"

… **.**

Moments later, we were back in Warren's room. On his desk were a stockpile of candles I had gathered from all over the house, from emergency candlesticks to scented Yankee candles. Warren was sitting on the edge of his made bed, looking at me quizzically while I kneeled in front of him.

"Nora, why are we doing this?" Warren asked, confusion clear in his voice. I sat dojo-style on my legs, cradling a cinnamon-scented candle in both hands.

"Don't argue," I ordered from where I sat in front of him, and held the candle up, "Just light the candle, would you?"

Warren resigned and gathered himself. He took a breath and sat up straight, eyes focused on the cylinder of wax as he reached a hand out. He snapped his fingers – a flash and a sizzle, like a sparkler, gave way to a single flame on the end of his index finger. Softly, he touched it to the candle to transfer the flame. I set the candle away from us on the hardwood floor as Warren extinguished the fire on his fingertip.

"How do you feel?" I looked up into his face from where he perched on the edge of his bed. He let a breath out and his body relaxed.

"Okay," Warren said, nodding, but a reserved expression remained on his face. "But that was harder than it should've been."

"Don't worry, there's plenty more candles to practice on," I told him, picking up another one. He looked at me incredulously.

"That's what this is? Pyrokinetics 101?" He retorted, irritated, looking down at me, "Nora, I can throw _fireballs_ and you have me lighting candles?"

"Sometimes you just need to return to the basics," I defended myself, holding up another. He scoffed, shaking his head and turning away. I could tell he was frustrated that his powers weren't coming as easy to him as they should have, but I wasn't ready to give up on our experiment yet.

"Come on," I coaxed him in a soft voice, "Let's do another one."

Warren quietly regarded me for a moment, sighed, and conceded. With concentration he snapped his fingers again, and the same sparkler flash appeared but the flame sizzled out. Warren gathered himself, tried again, and lit the second candle successfully.

"Good!" I encouraged him, setting that candle with the other. "It's getting easier, right?"

"Yeah, it is," He agreed, excitement sparkling in his eyes. I could tell my plan was working.

We continued our practice with the candles. When we ran out of candles to light, I blew them out one by one so he could light them again. Time wore on, and as he snapped his fingers flames readily leapt up. Warren's powers came back slowly and gradually, and although he assured me it took very little energy to light a small flame, I could sense his body fatigue as time wore on. Warren lit the last candle, and I set it down with a definitive thump. I looked proudly up at my pyrokinetic.

"Feel better?" I asked him with a smile, and he answered me with one of his own.

"Yeah, actually," He replied, sounding renewed, "It's coming a lot easier now."

"I can tell," I joked with him, gesturing to the floor. Candles littered the hardwood near where I sat, casting a rosy glow on everything in the room. The ambiance restored the glow to Warren's skin that had been absent since the accident.

Warren, leaning forward to rest elbows on knees, suddenly asked "Why are you doing all this?"

I regarded my partner fondly. He sat on the edge of his bed looking down at me, clad in sweatpants and a t-shirt. He'd declared himself warm over the course of our practice and shed his sweatshirt, which delighted me – it meant his body temperature was returning to normal.

I shrugged in response to his question.

"I don't know," I responded lamely, "I guess I kinda figured if you can see the fire, and make the fire, and be around it, it'd be like therapy." _Honestly, I wasn't sure at all that the plan would work_... I supposed silently. "I just thought it'd help you recuperate faster."

Warren's face suddenly melted into a queer expression. He was silent for a minute before he spoke.

"Nora, you know you don't have to try and…" His eyes caught mine, " _Heal_ me, right?"

My heart skipped a beat. I wanted to argue with him, but I realized with sudden clarity that I was trying to do exactly that. Part of me was irritated that Warren could see through me that way, but the other part of me seceded to the truth.

"I feel like I do," I confessed in a whisper, and cast my eyes down, "I feel like – sometimes I just feel like I make everything worse, you know?"

I sat on the floor, silent for a moment to gather my thoughts, and I looked at Warren.

"And now you're sick because of me, and I want to try and fix it if I can," I struggled to illuminate my thoughts clearly, but it was difficult with the emotions welling up inside me. "Not only because I feel guilty – well, I mean, obviously I feel guilty – but because I… I care about you, and I want to do good by you."

I fought to express my feelings clearly and I couldn't understand the expression on Warren's face as I spoke. I scrunched my eyes closed in frustration at my own stupidity – I could never get my words right! I wanted to hide under his scrutinizing gaze. I nestled my forehead against his knee, eyes still scrunched tight in embarrassment.

"Just thought I could help, is all," I finished my pitiful speech. I sat criss-cross on the floor directly in front of Warren. He sat perched on the edge of his bed, feet flush with the ground and elbows resting on his knees. He hadn't moved as I laid my head against his leg, and his body sat suspended on the bed.

A large hand suddenly came down on my head, enveloping the crown and affectionately jostling me.

"You are such – god, you're so…" Warren stuttered out, voice animated, "When are you gonna understand?"

I turned my face toward him, confused but trying to comprehend his meaning. He looked down at me, hand on my head.

"I know you don't always tell me everything, and that you've got your own secrets, and that's fine. Really, it is – I don't need to know everything just yet… But, damn, Nora! Can you please drop the mentality that you're some kind of… of anti hero?!"

His face was frustrated and his brows were creased and his mouth turned down as he spoke. His eyes were pained and his face was flushed and I half wondered if our candle practice had been too much for him.

" _You – are – good,_ " He enunciated each word with a pat on my head, and I flinched out of reflex but otherwise sat in silence as I looked up at him, shocked by his sudden admonition and not knowing what to say.

"Youare goodfor me," Warren declared, the rudimentary words taking on a deeper meaning as I began to comprehend his feelings, "And I'm good for you. Don't you get it?"

I nodded, dazed, but fundamentally beginning to understand. Warren took both sides of my face with his large hands, and I squeezed my eyes shut as he pulled me towards him and roughly planted a strong kiss on my forehead. He held it there for a few seconds, and I willed him not to pull away. He sat back on his bed with a sigh.

"Besides," He segued the conversation to shallower waters, voice softening, "You must be some kind of miracle worker, 'cause I feel better already."

I grinned at him, and swallowed back tears I didn't know I'd been fighting.

"What can I say? I'm a Jill-of-all-trades," I replied, looking musingly into his face, "You look tired, though…"

"I am," Warren admitted, falling back onto his bed. The springs groaned under him, and he rubbed his face.

"You should – you should take a nap," I advised him, pulling myself up off the ground, careful to avoid the live candles with my ponytail. This close to homecoming? I was not willing to undergo any sort of hair catastrophes. "I'll clean up."

"No, leave them," Warren said, swinging his feet up onto the mattress and looking at me as he reclined, "I think you're right about the whole therapy thing. I can't tell if it's looking at the candles that's helping me, or just you being here."

I blushed deeply, although the tone in Warren's voice was playful. He was trying to lighten things up after our parley, but it was only serving to make my heart beat faster.

"It's the candles," I told him flatly, and saw him smile from the corner of my eye. I sat down at his desk and went for the book I'd been reading earlier.

"What are you doing?" Warren asked me, sounding displeased.

"Finishing this book," I answered blankly, unsure of why he sounded that way. I turned the La-Z-Boy chair toward him.

"Don't sit at the desk," He protested, sitting up against his headboard. "There's room over here."

"No, really, I'm fine," I denied his welcome, content with the chair, "It's plenty comfortable and I sat here all –"

"Nora," Warren cut me off, voice clear and demanding, "Please don't sit in the chair."

It took me a minute before I comprehended his words. Grumbling, I put the book back on his desk and stepped through the maze of lit candles. Warren scooted closer to the wall to make room for me, and I sat down on his bed. It was almost too small for Warren, let alone for the both of us, and our bodies were already flush. I was _more_ than excited to be in bed with Warren Peace, but wasn't sure where this was going. I regarded the situation uneasily.

"Don't worry, I don't bite," He told me sarcastically, curling his arm under a pillow and turning towards me. A devious smile slid onto his face. "But I know you do."

I threw my head back in an abrupt laughter, sliding under the covers to get warm. Warren laid on top of them, but I was cool in my leggings and sweatshirt. Even so, I figured the extra barrier between him and I would be a good thing – as he smiled his brilliant smile at me, I didn't know if I could be trusted.

"Low blow," I admonished him in a smirk, and he laughed under his breath. His tired, amused eyes regarded me from across the bed. I reached out and laid a hand on his arm, testing the temperature. Sure enough, it was warming up to normal.

"Do you still feel cold?" I inquired, making myself comfortable in the strange bed. It smelled of Warren, and the scent elated me. That, plus the fact that I had the real thing laying next to me, had me giddy beyond what was probably healthy.

"Not anymore," He reported with a smile, "Not around you."

I blushed again, and fought the urge to cover my face with the comforter. I tried to think of something to say.

"Yeah, well, I am," I mumbled, scooting closer to him from under the covers, "So share the wealth."

Warren willingly obliged me as I rested my head on the pillow he'd curled his arm under. He tucked me into the crook of his body, putting his other arm around me and squeezing me to him. Instinctively my legs kicked their way out from under the cover, tangling with his for extra contact. We regarded each other silently, both of our faces turned into slight smiles from where we rested on the same pillow. I sighed contentedly.

"You know," Warren raised his brows in a joking manner, "I was kinda hoping those candles were gonna be some sort of romantic overture."

I guffawed again, laying a hand on his chest and looking into his face.

"Not quite," I admitted, "But if I was gonna put the moves on you, it'd be something better than that."

It was Warren's turn to laugh.

We laid like that for a few moments longer before fatigue caught up to us. Warren was tired from exerting his powers, and I was tired from the poor sleep I'd gotten. My body relaxed and settled into his, before I spoke once more.

"Wait… what's your mom gonna think if she comes home and finds me in bed with you?" I wondered, "In a room full of lighted candles?"

Warren only smiled, and wound his arms around me.

"She won't be home for a while," He said, "And besides, it's best to just tell her the truth."

"So you're telling me, if you told her we only took a nap together, she'd believe you?" I asked incredulously. As it was, if my mother knew I was even in the house _alone_ with Warren, I would be grounded – until I graduated. Warren nodded.

"Yeah, of course," He said, perplexity on his face before realization replaced it. "Oh, right, I never told you – that's her power, to detect lies."

I stopped short.

"It's what?" I asked dumbly, willing him to clarify. This morning's conversation with her began to make more sense.

"Yeah, she's like a human lie detector," Warren explained, raising his eyebrows, "Makes it hard to have any kind of personal life around here… What's wrong?"

My face must have paled because Warren was looking at me from across the pillow with a concerned expression.

"Nothing," I shook my head, and my hair rubbed against the pillow, "Just, ah – brings new light to a conversation I had with your mom this morning."

Warren paled next.

"Oh, no," He said, lifting himself off the pillow and jostling me in the process, "She went all courtroom on you, didn't she? Asked you a bunch of hard questions."

I looked up at him. His body was suspended over mine by one arm as he glowered. It was hot. I nodded.

"I can't believe her," He exclaimed, visibly irritated. "I hope she didn't ask you anything too personal."

"Nothing I wasn't already prepared to answer," I grinned at him, and he regarded me with silent speculation.

"Don't worry about it," I brushed the episode off, extending my arms out to him. "Come back to bed, honey," I joked in a sarcastic voice, using the cheesy phrase shamelessly.

Warren half-smiled, and his eyes softened immediately as he let me pull him close. His arms wound under my body, and his legs sandwiched mine – I cushioned his head with my arm, using my free hand to brush through his hair. He hummed into my shoulder as I ran my hand over his back. My fingers danced over the strong muscles I had gotten a peek at earlier. I felt his body pulse with heat, and recalled how his temperature rose in the event of intimate contact. I grinned to myself.

 _I guess that's one way I can help him, after all…_ I thought, beginning to fall asleep to the sound of Warren's deep breathing. I opened my eyes again.

"Warren," I said. I felt his chest vibrate as he groaned in irritation.

"What now, Nora?"

"I don't think we should fall asleep in a room full of live candles," I cooed quietly, "Do you?"

"I'm a pyrokinetic, Nora," He said flatly, not raising his head from where it rested on me, "I think we're safe."

I glanced cautiously at the candles that littered the room. I could just imagine Mrs. Peace coming home to a burnt-down house, and had a feeling that she would _not_ be inviting me back.

"Warren," I implored again, jostling his shoulder.

" _Fine,_ " He acknowledged my concern with irritation, and lifted only a single hand from under me.

 _Snap!_

He snapped his fingers, and the flames from each candle were extinguished simultaneously. I looked across the room at the bit of wispy, charcoal fumes that rose from each light and dissipated into the air. I was impressed.

"Show off," I mumbled, and fell asleep.

… **.**

 ***I don't know if you guys are familiar with high school sports at all, but on Varsity teams if you're late/absent from school the day of a game, you don't get to play. I'm not sure if it's an official rule, or a school policy, or just an ethical code, but that's how I've always been taught. Some coaches even have repercussions for athletes if they're late to school on the day of a practice.**

 **Thank you guys for waiting! This chapter is THE LONGEST. CHAPTER. EVER. Seriously, there's like 6,400 words in this one and it's mostly dialog. I'm going to give myself a sticker because it took me days to write this one. And, I'm kinda crappy at dialog, so that's why it took a bit longer. Plus I've had some personal stuff going on. Regardless, thanks for waiting and I really hope you enjoy this chapter! Leave me a review and let me know how I'm doing. Keep the faith, y'all!**


	19. Chapter 19- Demons

Warren and I returned to school that Friday. Although I entered the foyer knowing Coach Boomer probably wanted to rip my head off for skipping school the day before, costing Warren and I the match that would have kept us in the running for first place in the tournament, I couldn't help but feel elated with Warren at my side.

I wasn't sure what everything meant – our conversation the previous day… hell, even our whole relationship was inscrutably complex up to that point. I didn't know what to make of it, but I knew how it made me feel.

I sat with Warren and Steven at lunch. The drama club jostled noisily about at the table around us, but the lunchroom sounds and movements didn't preoccupy me as much as usual. I realized with pleasure that I was more easily able to control my powers and my senses, and a voice at the back of my head said I could probably attribute that newfound peace to Warren.

I sat silently amid the chaos, regarding the people around me fondly. I still wasn't quite sure what to make of Warren's and my conversation yesterday, but I decided he was right. I couldn't feel guilty about the decisions I'd made in the past – I had done the best that I could do with what I was given at the time, I had made a call, and now I was just going to have to live with it.

I realized that Warren had been speaking to our incident at the Save the Citizen game, but somehow his speech had given me clarity about my whole charade since I arrived at Sky High. I knew that lying about my status and creating a whole new identity for myself was less than ideal. But under the duress I had felt at starting at a new school as _a villain_? There had been no better choice.

 _And look where it got me,_ I thought warmly, observing my friends around me. I had built this for myself – albeit on a basis of lies – but I had worked hard for this happiness none the less. I knew that one day, my whole pretense would come crashing down around me. I never expected to make it _this_ long. But for now, I felt renewed. I felt _redeemed._ And, sure, one day my lies were gonna come back around to bite me on the ass. I resolved myself to that fact. But, still, I smiled to myself – it was not this day.

Across the lunchroom, I caught a glimpse of Will and Layla walking together. I snapped myself out of my reverie as Warren waved them over to us from where we sat. Will looked at Warren, then at me, and glared. He stood stone still and I could see Layla saying something to him, trying to coax him over to where we sat. Will's caustic gaze never broke from mine as he turned his back, ignoring his best friend's call. Layla followed him after sending an apologetic look toward us. Warren settled down into his seat, confusion and hurt rolling off him, but I pretended like I hadn't seen. He didn't say anything.

The short episode immediately went out of my mind after lunch. I couldn't concentrate during my classes in anticipation of the tournament games after school. I was so excited that I skipped study hall and headed straight for the gymnasium before the PA ever came on to dismiss us.

It was just as well. Boomer was already there, and he was _pissed._ I got an earful about skipping school, and "letting the team down," and anything else he wanted to holler about. I nodded and agreed, effectively talking his anger down, but I recalled thinking that I was glad I arrived to the gym early so none of my teammates heard his grievances against me.

I didn't feel guilty about staying with Warren the previous day, even though I knew it would cost us our place in the winners' bracket. _I made my decision, and I'm living with it_ , I reasoned. I pushed that encounter out of my mind as well.

Warmups came faster than I expected. The auditorium flooded with people ready to watch the final games. Both winners' and losers' brackets would be wrapped up today, and the tournament would come to an end after first, second, and third place was awarded.

The energy in the air was electric, and the athletes ran drills with renewed vigor. Warren and I warmed up by jogging laps around the gym (which also gave me an opportunity to scout the opposition), and I found myself running too fast for him. I slowed down, trying to pace myself, determined to come away from the tournament that day with a win.

We slowed to a stop in a far corner of the track that wound around the arena. We were near to where the bleachers ended, close to the wall, and a foot or two of space remained between the two structures. Warren dropped onto the floor to stretch, and I was pleased to observe that his physical performance was almost back to normal after being so sick.

From there I could see our bench, where Coach Boomer had sat Will and Layla. Boomer was pacing back and forth, delivering a speech but not lecturing the two. They sat close together, leaning forward and nodding at Coach's words. I could see the anxiety and tension on their faces, and realized Boomer must be explaining to them the importance of their position. Since Warren and I were out of the running for the championships, they were the runners up. From the looks on their faces, they were taking the responsibility very seriously.

Warren and I stayed there for a while, stretching and discussing tactics, when I saw Coach dismiss Will and Layla. Will stood, scanning the crowd with a murderous look. His eyes fell on me and he strode through the throng of people as Layla lagged behind him. I saw him coming and I got up from the ground, steeling myself for a fight.

"And where the hell were you yesterday?" Will demanded as soon as he was in earshot. The voices of the auditorium made it hard for him to be heard. Warren got up from the ground hastily, and started to speak in my defense. Will strode up to me menacingly and I stepped forward, ready. The hostility between us was clear.

"Whoa, Will!" Warren protested in a neutral tone, wedging himself between me and his best friend. "What's your problem, man?"

"My problem?" Will retorted, "Since Nora skipped school yesterday, Coach is putting extra pressure on us to pick up the slack where _you two_ dropped out of the running for championships."

"What's the matter, Will? Can't handle the heat?" I taunted him, knowing full well he was still angry about the danger I had put Warren in the game before last. He lunged at me and Warren wrenched us apart.

"Will, stop!" He argued with his friend, "Get over it, it's a game."

Will laughed bitterly, and I glanced at Layla who stood behind him meekly.

"Everything's a game to _her,_ " Will spat out, and my gut dropped. "She's the one with a dirty little secret."

Anger replaced my anxiety, and I fought my way around Warren to step up into Will's face. He wasn't that much bigger than me, I figured. Super strength or not, I could take him.

"If you know so much about it, tell him!" I mocked Will, gesturing to Warren who struggled to keep us apart. Will stopped short, glaring down at me. "Go ahead," I implored him, waiting.

Will flushed in the face, and for a moment I thought he was going to turn away and not say a word. He turned his gaze to his best friend.

"Nora's keeping it a secret that she's on the same Save the Citizen team with you," the words poured out of Will's mouth, "She hasn't even told her parents that she's playing because she's afraid to be on the same team as _a villain_!"

I flinched at the v-word, and felt Warren's grip on my shoulder stiffen. I was shocked – if I had known what Will was really thinking, I never would have invited him to voice his opinion. I glanced at Warren from the corner of my eye, worried about how Will's words had affected him.

"It's a secret… because I'm not supposed to play," I explained through gritted teeth, "It's my punishment. My parents told me I'm not allowed, but I went behind their backs and did it anyways. It has _nothing_ to do with Warren."

Warren's face was guarded, but I knew he must be upset to think that I would consider him beneath me, or consider him a villain. I pleaded my case with the truth, hoping it would be enough to convince Warren of my fidelity.

"Yeah, like you're so believable," Will mocked me with a sneer, and we lunged for each other. Warren fought to break it up again, and struggled in his weakened state.

"If you're so caught up on Nora playing, take it up with Coach!" Layla protested in an attempt to stop the fighting, but I laughed from behind Warren.

"Yeah, right! You think Coach'll be happy if the boy wonder here puts his powerhouse couple out of the tournament?" I retorted, and could see realization cross Will's face. If I was disqualified, our chance to win second in the tournament was shot. He glowered at me, but knew he could do nothing to keep me from playing – not if he wanted to win. I grinned bitterly.

"You need me," I declared, smirking. Will's face was livid as he glared at me from over Warren's shoulder, and I looked him in the eyes. A tense moment passed before Will stepped back, still glaring at me, and stalked away across the gymnasium. Layla followed behind.

I let out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding, and turned my back on the gymnasium. I had been doing so well with controlling my powers, but now with adrenaline rushing through me, I felt agitated. I locked my hands behind my head, breathing deeply, and paced a little. I walked between the bleachers and the wall, in that small space, and found that it was quieter there. I leant against the wall, hands on knees, and fought the hammering in my chest.

"Hey," Warren came to stand next to me, speaking softly with a hand on my back, "Are you okay?"

"Sorry to put you in the middle of that," I apologized to Warren, standing. No matter what issues I had with Will, he was still Warren's best friend and didn't deserve to be caught in between us. Warren deserved better than that.

"I'm glad I was," Warren spoke, "You guys were just about ready to kill each other."

 _You should've seen us the other day…_ I thought, but refrained from saying it aloud. My senses deescalated from their adrenaline-induced high, but a heavy feeling still weighed in my chest. I felt the sudden urge to reveal all to Warren, to come clean and tell him the whole truth, before someone else gave him any more wrong ideas. I turned to him.

"Look, Warren," I started, squaring my shoulders and facing him. If I didn't say what I needed to say now, I never would. "I really like you. I mean, I _really_ like you, but I haven't told you everything about myself."

I could see it in his face that he was ready to protest, but I cut him off.

"Wait, let me finish," I implored him, halting him with a hand on his chest. We stood closely together as I continued. "And I like this… _thing_ we have forming between us, whatever it is."

Warren said nothing, but he smiled, and held the hand that was resting on his chest. Sweetly, he pressed it tightly to him.

"But I also like who I am – who I've been – since I got here," I confided in a whisper and gestured to the auditorium around us, "And I'm afraid that our… relationship… might take that away from me."

I held my other hand to Warren's face. To tell him the truth would doubtlessly change our dynamic, our relationship, and I wasn't so sure I wanted to tell him after all – not if it meant he might regard me differently. His brow creased, and confused and worried eyes peered down at me from behind dense lashes.

"And I always promised myself that I would never let anyone stand between me and my anonymity, but then I met you and now… I just – I don't know if I can do this with you," I spoke of my struggle to express or hide the truth from him, blabbering, "Or if you're even gonna want me when you find out the truth, and –"

" _Nora,_ " Warren silenced me, taking both of my hands in his warm ones. He enveloped them in his, holding them to his chest.

"If it's…" His eyes searched mine, but for what, I didn't know, "If it's any consolation, I can't imagine a secret that would keep me from wanting you."

"But you don't know –"

" _Shhh,_ " He hushed me, face close to mine. Close enough to kiss. "You're right, I _don't_ know what you're hiding. And some days, I think I have you figured out, but then I realize there's still a part of yourself that you're keeping from me, and it tears me up inside."

My heart broke just a little. I never wanted my secrets, my insecurities, to cause Warren pain. His eyes caught mine. He must have read my thoughts, because he squeezed his eyes shut and took a breath.

"But I trust you," He said, and my breath caught in my throat, "I trust you, Nora, and I know you'll tell me everything when you're ready."

Half of me wanted to argue, to tell him that he _shouldn't_ trust me. The other half willed him not to stop talking, not to stop expressing confidence in me. I remained silent.

"But we can't worry about that right now," Warren's words caught my attention, "Right now, we have a game to play."

This was true. I nodded. As if on cue, the five-minute warning buzzer went off, and I could hear the scuff of sneakers across hardwood floor as the athletes headed for their benches.

"Don't even think about it," Warren coached me, and I realized he was right (like always), "You and I are gonna go out there and play the best damn game this stadium has _ever seen._ "

I smiled, anxiety falling off me like old clothes. He was correct, everything could wait until after the Save the Citizen tournament.

"We're gonna go out there, just the two of us, and we're gonna kick ass and have fun," He smiled at me, gaining momentum. He tugged on my hands, pulling me into him playfully.

"And after we're gonna celebrate, and I'm gonna kiss you _so hard_ ," He laughed out, smiling his brilliant white smile as laugh lines appeared in the corners of his eyes, "And then after _that_ you can tell me anything you want me to know. Okay?"

I smiled like an idiot and nodded, feeling the cliché but inescapable confidence that so long Warren was by my side, everything would be all right. He smiled sweetly at me.

"C'mon," He tugged on my hands, stepping backwards towards the arena. I pulled him back towards me.

"Any chance of cashing in on that kiss now?" I ventured, grinning shyly at him.

He let out a breathy laugh, eyes sparkling, and softly grabbed the sides of my face. My hands went to cover his on reflex. I leaned toward him, waiting for his warm lips. His head turned and his mouth fell upon my cheek in a simple, gentle kiss. My eyes closed for that sweet moment, and I was surprised when his mouth changed positions and he planted a small kiss on my lips. It was quick, and I didn't even have time to kiss him back. I opened my eyes and he was smirking at me.

"I'm saving the best for later," Warren explained mischievously, and I blushed. I rolled my eyes in faux annoyance.

"Tease," I remarked lowly, and we stepped out from behind the bleachers and turned towards the bench.

I glanced at the scoreboard, where the upcoming matches were on display for the fans to see. Players didn't know who they were playing until the day of the tournament, but Coach would brief us on that. The scoreboard had labels "Winners' bracket" and "Losers' bracket", and listed each couple that would play an opposing school. I idly noted the time left on the clock, and suddenly stopped in my tracks when I saw who Warren and I were scheduled to play. He'd been leading me by the hand, and felt when I halted my steps.

"Nora? What's the wrong?" He asked, confused. In dismay, I couldn't tear my eyes away from the scoreboard.

 _This can't be happening…_ Ran through my head repeatedly in a matter of seconds, but the reality was there, staring me in the face. I closed my eyes, realizing that I didn't have as much time to live my charade as I'd thought.

"I'm sorry for what's about to happen," My voice sounded steely. If I had to blow my cover, I guess today was as good a day as any. I resigned myself to that fact and opened my eyes.

"What's going to happen?" Warren was asking me, concerned. I laughed, and it came out bitter. Sardonic.

"Shit's about to hit the fan, that's what's gonna happen," I choked out, and tasted blood in my mouth. I felt my eyes glaze over, and knew my animal eyes had come out when Warren flinched and stared at them in horrific admiration. I blinked them away, willing my powers to stay in check, just this once. Please, god! Just this once.

"Please don't be angry with me," I whispered, just barely. I couldn't bear to look Warren in the eyes, so instead I reached up and tightened the ribbon in my hair, the one he'd given me. I cleared my throat.

"And please don't let me hurt anyone," I implored him, voice strong and determined.

I strode into the arena as the final buzzer sounded, ready to face the demons that had come back to haunt me…

… **..**

 **Aaaaand cut! This chapter was necessary to tie some things together. Will and Layla confront Nora about her secret affiliation with Warren. Nora sets them straight with the truth, they don't believe her, and she and Will almost get into a fight (AGAIN). Warren breaks it up but doesn't quite understand everything that's going on. Nora begins to explain, but is cut off by Warren's declaration that he trusts her unconditionally and that there's nothing that would make him want her less. Cute fuzzy feels ensue, but then poor Nora gets hit with a truckload of reality – her secret is about to come out, and it has something to do with her and Warren's opponents for their next match of Save the Citizen! What does that mean, and what's going to happen? Tune in next time to find out, and don't forget to leave me a review! Thanks as always for your encouragement!**


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